Love Beyond Time
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Caryl, AU. Janeway/Chakotay, AU. Knowledge of neither show is absolutely necessary. Carol and Daryl are caught outside of their time through the actions of a now-extinct race, and they must learn to live together among the stars. Kathryn Janeway must lean heavily on her first officer, Chakotay, to help the two strangers integrate into the crew. Each couple can see what the oth
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is a Star Trek Voyager and a Walking Dead sort of collision fic. I think it would always be helpful to know both shows, but I absolutely don't think it's completely necessary. I believe you can more than follow along out without ever having seen both shows. It might help more with picturing characters than anything, but there's also google for that (and imagination, of course). It's entirely AU for the Walking Dead, and it's partially AU for Voyager because we're pretending that the Millennium Plague took place in Earth's past. Everything else, hopefully, will be explained as the story goes on.**

**I'm writing this from my love of the two ships Janeway/Chakotay and Carol/Daryl. I'm writing it for fun and entertainment. I hope you might get something out of it. **

**Caryl does not figure too heavily into the first chapter, though they do have their moment, and you'll understand why by the end of the chapter. However, they will figure heavily into the rest of the story.**

**I own nothing from Star Trek Voyager nor The Walking Dead, though I love both.**

**If you choose to read, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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The ship rocked as shrapnel from the Araulian ship hit Voyager with full impact.

"Tom," Kathryn Janeway said. There was enough authority put behind his name that she didn't really need to give any other kind of command. He was a good at the helm, and he hardly ever had a problem anticipating what needed to be done.

"We're already backing out of range, Captain," Tom Paris offered.

"We've sustained no real damage, Captain," Tuvok offered. "The Araulian ship, however, has been destroyed."

Kathryn rubbed her temples with her fingers and stared out the viewscreen.

The Araulian ship was gone. Destroyed. There was nothing left of it, now, except floating particles in the air. There wasn't even enough of the ship left to identify it if she hadn't seen it floating in space only moments before. If she hadn't spent so much time aboard it in the past two weeks, she might have even led herself to believe that there never had been an Araulian ship—or the Araulian people, for that matter.

Voyager hadn't destroyed the ship. She'd never fired on them.

What they had done had certainly not been harmless, and Kathryn knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they hadn't seen all of the fallout of the Araulian's actions, but they hadn't done something that merited Voyager destroying their ship and taking the lives of all the people that had called the ship home.

There had been children on the ship.

The weight of it all hung heavy in Kathryn's chest.

"Life signs, Lieutenant Tuvok?"

"Scanning," Tuvok said. "There are none."

"Do you think it was some kind of ship malfunction?" Tom asked.

"It was too perfectly timed for a ship malfunction, Tom," Kathryn said with a sigh.

She was standing, white-knuckling the bar just behind the Captain's chair. She'd never made it any closer to the view screen in her discussion with Vin Taun—the head of the Araulians that had lived above the ship. Their final points of discussion had been a bit heated—of course they had been—but Kathryn had never threatened him, and everyone on her bridge could attest to that.

"Vin Taun chose to destroy the ship," Kathryn said.

"Perhaps," Tuvok offered, "he wanted to have control of their fate because he suspected that's what you would do when you said that it was improper for him to use the relocation device, and that you would do what you could to stop him from interfering with past events."

"I meant destroy the relocation device," Kathryn said. "Find a way to…to render it dysfunctional. I didn't mean to destroy the entire ship and its entire population. If Vin Taun was correct? Their species is now extinct."

"And their technology is lost," Tom said. He sounded a great deal more mournful over the loss of the technology than he did over the whole of the Araulian species.

"It wasn't perfect," Harry Kim lamented, "but it did get us back to Earth."

"An Earth that wasn't our home," Kathryn said. "An Earth that was—something out of a different time. We returned to the time of the Millennium Plague."

"The Walking Death," Tom offered.

"Even if it wouldn't have disrupted time to stay there," Kathryn said, "it wasn't our time. None of our families or friends would have been there. None of our loved ones. It would have been a world that none of us knew, really."

"Besides that," Tom added, "the Walking Death was a horrible plague. It wiped out eighty percent of the population of North America alone. The people that did survive? None of them came out of that time without some serious trauma to overcome. It took decades to rebuild."

"Maybe B'Elanna could have done something with the technology, though," Harry lamented.

"Tweaked it to get us back to the Alpha Quadrant at the correct time," Tom added, stepping up to help Harry when the younger man's words fell off.

Kathryn sighed.

"It doesn't matter now. The Araulian ship has been destroyed, Hap Soun took the relocation device with her when she returned to her ship, and we have other concerns to deal with now. Lieutenant Paris, please set a course for our previous coordinates. We'll get back to the Alpha Quadrant—it's just going to take us a little longer than the Araulian Head promised us."

"Yes ma'am," Tom said, almost mournfully, as he followed her command. She didn't even correct him for calling her "ma'am" instead of "Captain" because she understood that he was disappointed. "Course laid in," he offered. Kathryn cast one last glance out of the viewscreen to see the last of the debris disappear and then she turned to leave the bridge.

"You've got the bridge, Lieutenant Tuvok," Kathryn offered.

She heard his acceptance as she stepped into the turbolift.

They were all disappointed.

In the turbolift, Kathryn gave her destination command, let the turbolift begin to move, and then she demanded that it stop. She needed a dose of quiet and solitude that only the turbolift could offer her for the moment—and she could only have a moment.

The Araulian's were destroyed. Their technology was gone. Voyager, really, was no worse the wear for the short trip to the past that had happened during the Araulian's test run with their relocation device. They'd spent relatively little time in Earth's past, and the Araulian's ship had self-destructed before they'd been able to use the device to do anything they'd planned to do in their own history.

Voyager's crew had only really lost the two weeks that they'd dedicated to working with the Araulians for what they believed to be the good of both species. Beyond their time, they'd only really suffered the emotional strain of having their hopes for a quick return home dashed—once again, it seemed—and they'd lost a little of their confidence in the honesty and trustworthiness of other species.

Voyager and her crew would be fine.

But Captain Kathryn Janeway still had to deal with another problem. It was a very great problem, and she wasn't sure, yet, how she was going to handle it.

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The eyes of her first officer smiled at her when he saw her walk through the sickbay doors. They also offered her sympathy.

Chakotay would know that she was struggling with knowing what to do and how to handle this. He stepped forward to meet her and put his hand on her shoulder as a show of solidarity. She took comfort in his touch. Being a captain, sometimes, was a hard job. The unpleasant things were always left up to her.

At least, Kathryn thought, she was lucky. By happy accident, she'd managed to find a first officer that completed her in more ways than she'd ever imagined one could. She had been exceedingly grateful to have him by her side since they'd gotten stranded in the Delta Quadrant—70,000 light years from their home.

"How are they?" Kathryn asked.

She wasn't even sure what she wanted as an answer. Of course, she wanted the two humans to live—she wasn't a monster—but she was sure that life wasn't going to be easy for them if they did survive. They were far outside of their time and they could never return. Like the crew of Voyager, they would be stranded. The only difference would be that Voyager had hope of making it home, even if she might not do it within the lifetimes of everyone there.

The natural "lifetimes" of both these humans had passed centuries ago.

"They're stable for the time being," Chakotay said. "The Araulian weapons were set to stun, but their charges were strong for human physiology."

"What Commander Chakotay is trying to say," their Emergency Medical Hologram—the ship's only doctor—added as he approached Kathryn and Chakotay, "is that they have suffered some internal injuries from the weapons' fire, but it's nothing that I can't repair. The man sustained a direct hit to the chest. His injuries are more extensive, so Kes is prepping him for surgery now. I'll operate on his companion when I've finished with him."

"But you're confident that you can help them?" Kathryn asked.

The EMH beamed. He was arrogant, but he was usually good enough at what he did to earn him the right to such arrogance.

"Confident enough, Captain, that you should begin giving orders to have their quarters prepared," the doctor responded. "I'll want to keep them overnight for observation, but then I'll be ready to release them and to open sickbay up to meeting the other urgent medical needs of the crew."

Kathryn laughed to herself. She was thankful for the slight hint of amusement that bubbled up in her to relieve some of her stress. She patted the EMH on the shoulder.

"Just do your best. May I see them? Before you get started?"

"Certainly," the EMH said. "They are both currently sedated in case they should wake, despite their injuries."

"I thought it might be for the best," Chakotay said. "Waking up, injured and three hundred years in the future, might be too much for them to handle all at once."

"I think you're right," Kathryn said. "Baby steps."

She made her way over to the biobed where the man that the Araulian scientist had brought on board was prepped for surgery. He was covered with a lightweight blanket, and it wouldn't be long before they closed the shields around him to begin. Kathryn leaned over the man. When she'd seen him before, Kathryn had thought he might be dead. The Araulian weapons were foreign to the Voyager crew and he'd been fired upon as soon as the protective bubble that transported him onto the ship—against his will and against Kathryn's will—had been removed. He wouldn't have been hit quite as directly, Kathryn was sure, except for the fact that, upon seeing the Araulian raise the weapon to fire, he'd covered his companion's body with his own and threatened the scientist that had fired on him immediately after.

The dermal regenerator had healed most of the damage on the man's face, and the rest would be healed soon.

He was a man out of time, but he was a man, just the same as any other human man that Kathryn had ever known. This particular man was tanned, quite in need of a shave, and had probably known some really difficult times dealing with the Millennium Plague, but he was just a man.

And he was, evidently, a man who was very much in love. He had never hesitated to cover his companion's body with his own.

Kathryn reached out and brushed some of the hair out of the face of the man who lie on the table. She didn't know who he was. She had no idea what to call him. She didn't know if he could hear her or what he would think of her if he could. She still wanted to offer him some kind words of encouragement, though.

"It's going to be fine," she said softly. "You're in good hands. Both of you. Our doctor is going to fix everything and—maybe you won't find life with us so disagreeable after all." She smiled to herself. "I can already tell that you're both survivors. Adaptable. That will serve you well. All you have to worry about right now, though, is feeling better. Healing." She started to walk away, but she stopped. She smiled to herself at the man who was, to a degree, suspended in time for a moment. She thought about who he was. Who she already knew him to be. "Don't worry about her," Kathryn said. "We'll take care of her. She'll be here when you wake up. I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here! **

**I hope you enjoy! Thank you to those of you who have decided to give this a chance! (Even if you're not familiar with both shows!)**

**Let me know what you think! **

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Kathryn stood near the doctor and looked at the two unconscious people on the biobeds in front of them. They had been cleaned up, and they'd been treated for the Millennium Plague. That particular strand had been wiped out for so long that everyone onboard Voyager was almost naturally immune to it, but many of them had received boosters since the virus had the potential to be live on the ship before the filters had cleaned the air.

The strangers had been treated for their injuries and the doctor had assessed them to start creating files on them. When they were awake—and when they'd acclimated a little to their new reality—he wanted to do a complete phycological evaluation of both of them, and he wanted to do another physical examination where he was able to ask questions that would fill in information that, for the time being, remained unknown for Jane and John Doe.

Both of them had extensive scarring from before the Araulians had captured them. The doctor could have removed the scarring, but Kathryn told him to wait. The scars could be removed at any time, but she didn't know how these humans might feel about waking with their bodies so very different than they remembered them being.

She wanted to minimize their shock and any trauma they may suffer from the Araulian capture.

"The security team is waiting outside, Captain," Chakotay offered as he came to take his place by Kathryn's side. "Phasers set to stun."

"Good," Kathryn said. "We don't use the phasers unless absolutely necessary. I don't want them getting hurt because of fear and—I don't want them scared any more than they have to be." She glanced over her shoulder at the young Ocampan who was waiting to hand over a tray with hyposprays to the doctor. "Kes—it might be best if you were to wait out of sight for a while. I think that it would be better if our guests were to awake to human faces for the time being."

"I agree," Chakotay concurred. He offered to take the tray from Kes, and she passed it over with a smile and a soft word of understanding for the choice that Kathryn had made. She recognized that it was only with the good of the two strangers in mind, and not at all something she should take personally.

"Should I wake them both?" The doctor asked, accepting the hyposprays from Chakotay.

"One at a time," Chakotay offered. Kathryn nodded her agreement. "They'll be easier to control that way, and there will be less need to take any action against them if they should react."

"Very well," the doctor agreed. "Who would you prefer I wake first?"

At the same time, Kathryn answered with "the man" while Chakotay answered with "the woman." Both paused and stared at each other in question.

"You think the woman?" Kathryn asked, finally. Chakotay drew in a breath, considered his choice again, and nodded his head quickly and sharply. All Kathryn had to do was raise her eyebrow at him for him to know that she wanted to hear his rationale.

"She's smaller," Chakotay said. "Easier to handle."

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"So, you think she'll just—go along with everything and not cause any trouble because she's a small woman?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay smirked.

"No," he said. "I think she'll be easier to handle because I believe that I have a better chance of picking her up and physically restraining her, if the need should arise, thus eliminating the need to use phasers. That was your request, Captain." It was his turn to raise his eyebrows at her in question. "You think the man?"

"It's my theory that he'll be more easily controlled," Kathryn said. "We had no time to really study the woman before she was stunned by the Araulians. We did, however, have time to see at least one of the primary motivations of the man…"

"To protect her," Chakotay said. Kathryn hummed. "You want to use her as leverage?"

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"I don't mean to hold a phaser on her," Kathryn said, "if that's what you mean. I only mean that—I believe he'll remain calm as long as we can assure him that his calm is what's in the best interest of his companion."

"We tell him that we will wake her up," Chakotay offered, "but only if he'll calm down and listen to us for a moment?"

"Precisely," Kathryn said. "Right now, we know one very important thing about him. He'd do anything for her. She's entirely unpredictable. We'll do better to wake her when we have him on our side."

Chakotay considered it a moment. He nodded.

"Doctor—I think the captain's right. We should wake him first."

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Daryl's mind was swimming. Floating in darkness. Semi-darkness.

He was vaguely aware that his mouth was dry. He could hear talking—noises—but they felt so distant that he wasn't sure they truly existed.

He felt relaxed. He felt more relaxed than he'd felt in a long time and he wasn't sure that he wanted to move. He wasn't sure that he wanted to break whatever spell had fallen over him.

He tried to remember the last thing that had happened. When he drew that memory to his mind's eye, though, he rejected it. He looked for reality. The last thing he remembered couldn't have happened. Everything he remembered had to have been some kind of hallucination.

The last things he remembered were the spaceship and the aliens.

Before that, he'd been eating with Carol in the woods, outside their tent. He'd been sharing dinner with her. He remembered dinner with her before either of them had seen the spaceship—what they'd first thought was some kind of airplane.

His memory settled comfortably on the dinner. It was the last thing he knew to be real. They'd gathered up the ingredients for the stew that Carol had cooked together. She knew very little about selecting mushrooms, and he really didn't know much more than she did. There were some poisonous varieties that he could identify on sight, but for the most part it was trial and error.

They must have erred somewhere along the way. The spaceship and the aliens had all been part of a bad trip, and they'd had to sleep it off.

Daryl felt the cold fear grab him when he thought of sleeping it off, and when he thought about how very relaxed he felt at the moment. Sleeping it off was fine if they'd been safe inside, but they'd been outside, in the woods.

At this very moment, a Walker could be coming to tear into him.

A Walker could have already come for Carol.

The thought of it brought Daryl abruptly out of his stupor.

"Carol!" Daryl growled out as he jumped—stirred rudely from his sleep. His voice came out gravelly and hoarse. He couldn't focus his eyes, immediately, because the light around him seemed bright and unfamiliar.

"Shhhh…it's OK," a soft voice responded. Daryl closed his eyes a moment. He felt himself being gently pushed backward, urged to lie down. The voice was a woman's voice. Soft and oddly comforting. But it wasn't at all familiar, and it wasn't Carol's.

"Where the hell am I?" Daryl asked, moving to sit up quickly again.

The sights were dizzying. The lights were bright. The air was cold and it had the scent of hospital air or the air that he'd smelled somewhere before—the CDC. Recycled air. He jerked his head, quickly, trying to decide what could have possibly happened, and he realized that he was surrounded by people in uniforms.

And the woman—who must have been the one speaking to him—pushed against his chest and tried to say something more to him about remaining calm. She tried to soothe him.

At once, Daryl realized that he wasn't wearing any clothes beyond a cloth hospital gown of sorts. He was emptyhanded. He had no weapon of any sort with which to protect himself. He didn't know where he was, who these people were, or how he got here. He didn't know where Carol was, what they'd done with her, or if they'd left her alone somewhere.

His only reaction was to grab the woman who pressed her hands to his chest. He never meant to hurt her, only to move her out of his way—to stop her from stopping him from doing whatever it was that his instinct might kick in and tell him to do. But as he shoved her to the side, one of the men stepped up to grab him while another stepped into his space as well.

The feeling of cold metal on his neck was followed by a hiss that made him jump even worse than the stinging cold that spread against his skin and seemed to burn down into his neck.

"What the fuck!" He spat. Immediately, though, he felt the swimming sensation run through his body and his mind relaxed—whether he wanted it to or not.

The man who was holding him down was dark-skinned. Mexican. Native American. Daryl wasn't sure which, but he was strong. Still, he wasn't exactly hurting Daryl, he was just holding him there. His expression said he wasn't pleased, though, and Daryl wondered if he'd pissed him off, in particular, by flinging the little woman out of his space—especially when he turned his head to express some concern to the woman about her well-being as she appeared, again, in Daryl's peripheral vision.

She smiled at him and he wanted to believe her smile, but he could barely move and he could barely keep his eyes open.

"Where the fuck is Carol?" He asked.

The woman smiled. She seemed genuinely amused. Maybe even something else, because she looked at him like he was about two years old and he'd just asked her the most endearing question she'd ever heard.

"Oh—is that her name?" She asked softly.

Daryl tried to sit up again, but the man was still holding him down and he didn't feel like he could fight too hard against him. His body felt soft and a little like jelly. But that didn't mean that his frustration wasn't strong.

"You tell me where the hell she is, lady!" Daryl spat, realizing that nobody else seemed anxious to speak to him.

Her expression still retained some amusement, but she tried to look at least a bit more serious. She nodded her head.

"She's fine," the woman said. "She's three feet away from you. Asleep. And if you can stay calm—and let us talk to you—we'll be more than happy to let you up. Help you over to see her."

Daryl swallowed. It got stuck in his throat and he wanted water, but he wasn't going to ask for it. Not until he had some understanding about where he was, what he was doing there, or what these people wanted from him.

"Where is she?" He asked. "You don't fuck with us—I won't fuck with you…or your boyfriend."

He did his best to give the most convincing warning look to the asshole that was holding him down, but he didn't know how threatening he looked when he wasn't even certain that he could remain in a sitting position without assistance.

Everyone thought it was real damn funny, and they laughed in response, but the man backed off of Daryl and, instead of holding him down, he helped him to sit up. Daryl was right. He couldn't have sat by himself right away. Whatever they'd done to him made him feel like he had vertigo. The room—and he had to be somewhere like the CDC, even though he had no idea how he'd gotten there—continued spinning a moment after he'd stopped moving. When his vision settled, he saw Carol.

She was lying on a hard cot of sorts. She was wearing a hospital gown like his. She looked otherwise unharmed, though, and she was sleeping. At least—Daryl hoped she was sleeping.

Daryl grabbed the edge of his own cot or bed and tried to slide himself forward. Almost immediately, the quiet bodyguard grabbed him under one arm and the tiny woman—who was a good deal stronger than she looked—grabbed him under the other. They anticipated what he wanted, and they led him to the bed. The woman let go of his arm and her bodyguard boyfriend supported Daryl's weight where his knees threatened to fall short.

Daryl touched Carol's face. She was unharmed. Uninjured from what he could see. He trailed his hand down and rested his fingers over her neck.

"You'll find she's in good health," the other man offered. He was balding and far too chipper for the way that Daryl felt at the moment. "Excellent, really."

"Carol," Daryl called. "Carol," he repeated, shaking her.

"I'm afraid she won't wake up like that," the balding man offered.

Daryl looked up and caught the attention of the woman—the only damn one that seemed like she had any useful information for him.

"What the hell you done to her?" Daryl growled at her. He felt the man's grip tighten on his arm—a silent warning.

"She's fine," the woman said. "She's only sedated. We can wake her up at any time. She's just resting. Building strength. I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway. That's Chakotay and this is…the doctor. I promise we'll answer all your questions and we'll take care of all your needs. All of her needs. If you'll just stay calm and cooperate with us for a little while. If you'll just—listen."

Daryl felt the man tug him backward. It was easy to realize he was trying to help him back to his cot. Daryl put his hand on Carol's cot and pulled against the man with what little strength he retained at the moment.

"I'll listen," he said. "But—I ain't leavin' her."

"Very well," Kathryn said. "Chakotay—can you help him?"

Before Daryl knew what they were doing, they essentially made just enough room for him to sit on the edge of the cot next to Carol. She remained entirely undisturbed by everything happening around her. Daryl touched her hand. It was warm, and he kept his hand on hers to remind him that she was alive. Sedated, but alive.

"I'm listening," Daryl said.

Kathryn smiled and crossed her arms across her chest.

"Her name is Carol?" Kathryn asked.

Daryl nodded his head.

"And you are?" Kathryn asked.

"Daryl," Daryl offered. "Dixon. Daryl Dixon."

"Doctor?" Kathryn asked. She didn't have to ask him anything else. He was making notes in some kind of hand-held computer.

"Where the hell are we?" Daryl asked. "And how the fuck did we get here?"

Kathryn laughed.

"I'll tell you everything," Kathryn assured him. "I just—hope you're open-minded, Mr. Dixon."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I can't tell you how excited I am that some of you are willing to give this a chance. It's great to be able to play with two of my favorite couples in the same world (albeit they're from very differing worlds originally). **

**Anyway, thanks so much! I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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"Mr. Dixon," Kathryn said, leaning against the biobed that Daryl had abandoned.

"Daryl," he said.

"I beg your pardon?" Kathryn asked.

"Don't call me Mr. Dixon—not if you gonna be talkin' to me for a while. Daryl."

Kathryn smiled to herself.

"Daryl," she said with a nod. "If you can promise me that you'll stay calm and listen to us, we can fix that probably dizzy sensation you're feeling right now. Also—there's a security team waiting outside that door in case you're feeling overly combative, but I would like to send them back to complete more important work if you think that we can have a simple conversation without you turning to violence."

The man stared at her. His expression was hard or, at the very least, it was clear that he wanted it to be hard. He wanted to make himself unreadable. Perhaps, for most people, he would have been. Part of being a Starfleet captain, though, meant that Kathryn had a great deal of practice reading individuals from any number of species. If she could read Vulcans, she could at least somewhat read the man who was facing off with her.

And she saw when his eyes flicked toward his companion—Carol.

"We'll wake her up," Kathryn assured him, "as soon as you're ready. I think she might benefit, however, from a little more rest and from you being able to help explain everything to her. I assure you—she's fine. She's only resting. I've been under myself. Many times. It's a deep sleep. Not even any bad dreams."

"She hasn't slept like that in a while," Daryl offered.

Kathryn smiled at him.

"Then that's even more reason to let her rest while I fill you in," Kathryn said. "What do you say—Daryl? Can I send my security team back to work?"

Daryl's eyes flicked in Chakotay's direction before they settled back on Kathryn. He looked a little woozy and she knew it was the effect of the sedation that the doctor was using. It was a particular kind of sedative that would allow him to stay awake but, essentially, it would render him unable to be much of a threat.

It would also make him feel wretched, and Kathryn preferred not to start things that way.

"If you don't hurt us," Daryl said, "then I got no reason to hurt you."

Kathryn nodded.

"I understand," she said. She touched her combadge. "Lieutenant Tuvok—we've got things under control here. You and your team can return to your stations."

"Are you certain, Captain?" Tuvok's response came.

"Daryl is a most reasonable individual," Kathryn assured him. She winked her eye at the man who was focusing very intently on every single move that she made. He had, as long as he was able to keep his vision focused, probably memorized every freckle on her face by now. "We'll be fine here."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Tuvok responded.

"That like a—walkie talkie?" Daryl asked.

"Something like that," Kathryn ceded, glad that she'd at least studied a little history. Tom Paris, she imagined, would come in handy while helping to acclimate the two newcomers aboard the ship. He'd been fascinated with their time period. "Doctor—could you help our friend feel a little less dizzy and a little more like himself?"

When the doctor moved, a little too quickly perhaps, toward Daryl, the man reacted by putting his hands up to block the EMH.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" Daryl growled at him.

"It's a hypospray," Kathryn offered. "It's a method of administering medication. It won't hurt you. It'll stop the dizziness." Daryl still jerked away, clearly unsure of them and their medication. The EMH lacked some bedside manner, and so he seemed ready to enter into what could only be considered a slapping contest with the man who was too drunk to stay upright easily, but who was determined to protect himself and, as he leaned over Carol's body, Kathryn assumed he was doing his best to try to protect her, too. The hypospray was new, and Kathryn tried to remind herself that it was probably frightening. She could still remember, during a class she took at Starfleet Academy to become more culturally sensitive, when they were subjected to some other cultural practices of medicine. She'd been terrified to undergo her first—of a few, since then, given that she was sometimes prone to injury while on different missions—blood draw with a hypodermic needle instead of a hypospray. "Doctor—don't you have something to administer to me?"

"Captain?" The doctor asked, his frustration with his new patient every bit as evident as Daryl's frustration with his whole current life condition.

"Doctor—don't you have something that you could administer to me? So that Daryl could observe?" Kathryn asked.

"But Captain…" the doctor started, his frustration almost causing him to cough out the protest. He, like many of the others, had already learned when she wasn't willing to negotiate, though, so he sighed deeply, looked through his PADD a moment for her information, and disappeared to quickly return with another cartridge. He held it up, clearly a little irritated. "This is a cartridge." He slipped it into the hypospray, exchanging it for the cartridge that would later be administered to Daryl. "This is a hypospray. We use the hypospray to administer medication. Here."

Kathryn pulled her collar to the side and bared her neck to the doctor. She had no idea what he was giving her, but she was almost always behind on her monthly checkups, and that often meant being behind on one thing or another. He pressed the hypospray to her neck and released the medication. Daryl watched with a great deal of interest.

"Is that sufficient, Captain?" The doctor asked. Kathryn laughed to herself.

"Perhaps with a little less condescension next time," Kathryn said. "Do try to remember that our guests are…new here."

The doctor changed the hypospray cartridge again and held it out toward Daryl. This time, Daryl leaned his neck in the direction of the doctor, but he kept his eyes on Kathryn like he wasn't certain that he trusted her. He visibly jumped when the hypospray hissed, and muttered a curse. He rubbed his neck when the doctor pulled away.

"You'll get used to it," Kathryn assured him. She could, almost immediately, see some relief on his features. He looked around, this time without looking like he was going to be sick.

"Where are we?" He asked. "You military? We thought the government was gone."

"How about—one question at a time?" Kathryn asked. He nodded at her. She sighed. "I really don't know where to begin. I wasn't exactly trained for this particular scenario."

"It's almost a first contact," Chakotay offered.

Daryl furrowed his brow at Chakotay and Kathryn swallowed down her amusement. He was mad, but he might not even know exactly what he was mad about. Chakotay had done him no damage.

"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway," she said.

"So, you're like—the leader," Daryl said. "You're in charge."

"You could say that," Kathryn offered. "We're part of Starfleet. With the Federation."

"That some kind of foreign military?" Daryl asked.

"It is," Kathryn said. "It's absolutely _like _some kind of foreign military."

"What the hell you been waitin' on?!" Daryl asked loudly. "You just now showin' up? Do you know how fuckin' long we been out there? Do you know—what the hell we lost? She lost her damn kids—and you just now showin' the fuck up?!"

Daryl got to his feet. With the drug being removed from his system, his strength was coming back, as was the full effect of the natural fire that clearly burned within the man. As he stepped toward her, Kathryn straightened up and prepared herself in case he should react against her in any way. Chakotay stepped forward, prepared to stop him, but Kathryn held her hand up in Chakotay's direction and held eye contact with Daryl.

"I'm very sorry," Kathryn said. "I truly am. I'm sorry for your losses. There were so many tragic losses during the Millennium Plague. And, unfortunately, the government, as you knew it, was completely destroyed. The new government, Daryl, was built by the survivors out of their need to restore peace among those that were left, and to start to rebuild the world. They were survivors, like you and…Carol, that rebuilt the government and got Earth back on her feet. Nobody ever came to save you. You had to save yourselves."

Daryl stared at her. Hard. His eyes darted back and forth, slightly, as he tried to take in everything she'd said and everything it meant. He tried to take in everything about her.

If she'd been easily intimidated, Kathryn would have been intimidated by the intensity of the man's stare. She didn't fear him, though. Not at all. And if he did lash out, she was confident that it wouldn't be personal. At this moment, his reactions were coming from a very emotional place.

"I'm sorry," Kathryn repeated, softening her voice as much as she could. He relaxed a little. Sometimes, she knew, all anybody really needed was some validation. She shook her head at him. "I don't know where to begin to explain it to you so that you can understand everything. You'll have questions for months—years. And we'll all do our best to answer them. I suppose that the best thing to do right now is to rip off the proverbial bandage, Daryl, and explain to you what's happened."

"It's what the hell I been waitin' for," Daryl said. There was less anger in his voice, now, but he did flick his eyes toward Chakotay to see if the man was moving toward him. Kathryn looked at Chakotay as well. Instead of glaring at him, like Daryl did, she offered him a smile that she knew would reassure him. She appreciated him there, beside her—she always did. And she appreciated that he trusted her to handle this. For the time being, she could handle it.

"Have a seat?" Kathryn asked. Daryl returned to the biobed, this time without needing assistance. He did a quick one-over of his companion. He rested his hand on the sleeping woman's shoulder and looked back at Kathryn. She sighed. "You're on the Federation Starship Voyager. We're far away from home. An accidental encounter with another species landed us in the Delta Quadrant. Now we've got a very long journey ahead of us."

"Another species?" Daryl asked. "Like—animals?"

"Like what you might call aliens, Daryl," Kathryn offered.

"Little green men?" Daryl asked, furrowing his brow.

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"Not all of them are little, or green, and they're certainly not all men," Kathryn said. "But we've learned a lot since your time period."

"My time period?" Daryl asked.

Kathryn nodded her head.

"We were stranded here by an unfortunate encounter with an alien species," Kathryn offered. "In the same token, so were you. We were recently working with a species called the Araulians. They were going to help us return to Earth. To the Alpha Quadrant. In exchange, we were going to help them get accepted into the United Federation of Planets, and we were going to offer them the opportunity to start a new life since most of their species had been wiped out by the Borg. They had some other plans, though, and intended to try to go back in time to a point in their history where they believed they could change the outcome of everything that happened in their world. We weren't aware of their plans, and they used Voyager to test their device against our knowledge. They sent us back to Earth, however temporarily, but they sent us hundreds of years back in Earth's history. To be specific, they sent us back to the time of the Millennium Plague. Back to your time."

Daryl stared at her, mouth drawn up oddly and brows furrowed, and Kathryn didn't blame him a bit.

"You're sayin' that we're in space?" Daryl asked. Kathryn nodded. "And—we're in the future?" She nodded again. "Because my time is different than your time."

"Now you're here, with us," Kathryn said. "But your time was over three hundred years in the past. When we got there, to Earth in your time, the Araulians captured you and your companion before we knew what was happening, and we weren't able to stop them. They reset their device, returned us to this time, and they fled. We were only able to keep one from returning to their ship and, unfortunately, he died in the struggle. Their plan had been to study the two of you—along with those who had gone on the short trip—to see if the time change caused any significant damage. From there, they would know how to move forward with their plan."

"They managed to escape with their technology, but not with the two of you. When they admitted their plan to us through communication, they believed they'd be punished for what they did. They panicked and self-destructed," Chakotay offered. "Taking with them their technology and any hope that we had of returning you to your time period."

"You're sayin' we're stuck here?" Daryl asked. Kathryn nodded when he looked at her. "In the future. In space."

"In the Delta Quadrant," Kathryn said. "On Voyager. But—she's your home now. You're safe here. You will both be provided for. All your needs will be met. I promise you. In time, I'm sure, you'll have plenty to offer all of us. But for now? You're just part of our family."

"You're an alien?" Daryl asked.

Kathryn smiled to herself. He was confused. He was so very, very confused, but she understood it, and she would issue an order, herself, that everyone have as much patience as possible with their new arrivals.

"I'm a human," Kathryn said. "For all I know, Daryl, I may be…well, I may be your great, great, great whatever granddaughter. With five or six generations between us."

"I don't have any children," Daryl offered.

Kathryn nearly laughed to herself. She'd studied first encounters a great deal. New encounters with new individuals were one of the things she loved most about her career choice. One of the things that never failed, though, was the brain's choice to latch onto certain odd points when nothing else made sense.

He'd already told them about the lost children. Kathryn nodded her head, hoping to give him some comfort and, maybe even a little hope. She smiled at him.

"You may, someday," she offered. "I'm certain you've still got a long life ahead of you."

"It's a lot to take in," Chakotay offered.

Daryl laughed ironically to himself. He scratched, absentmindedly at his neck. He looked around. Then, he looked back at Chakotay.

"Are you an alien?" He asked.

"I'm a human," Chakotay offered, with some amusement on his features. Daryl eyed the doctor.

"I'm a hologram," the doctor offered before Daryl even asked the question that was, undoubtedly, coming.

Daryl looked back at Kathryn and she laughed to herself.

"You're going to have an immense number of questions," Kathryn said. "And—we'll all do our best to answer them. Beyond that—you're going to have plenty of opportunity to see as many aliens as you'd like. For the time being, though, why don't we wake your companion? You can help us orient her a little."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here in this adventure! **

**I am so glad that y'all are reading (and enjoying)! I think this is going to be fun, and I'm excited to share it with you! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter as we advance a little further toward getting people acquainted! Let me know what you think!**

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Daryl wasn't really prepared to explain how he felt about anything that was happening.

He and his older brother, Merle, had plenty of conversations about aliens over the years. Both of them believed in the possibility of aliens, though they'd both agreed that they weren't sure that they believed in little green men that walked around looking like Marvin the Martian and abducted rednecks from fields for science experiments. It didn't seem impossible, though, to believe that there could be other life out there—especially if you realized, like they'd both seen on a documentary one time, the possibility that each and every star up in the sky could be the sun for a whole new solar system that they hadn't even imagined before.

If what the woman—Captain Janeway, who had told him that he could call her Kathryn if it made him feel more comfortable—told him was true, he had, in fact, been abducted by aliens. He was simply in the custody of different aliens. And all of these aliens were, theoretically, not aliens. Some, like Kathryn and her counterpart, were humans. But, of course, they were not regular run-of-the-mill humans. They were humans from so far in the future that, as Kathryn insisted, she could be Daryl's great-to-the-whatever-the-fucking-power grandchild.

The only thing that Daryl was sure about was that it wasn't a dream. Whatever was actually happening to him was happening. He wasn't asleep. He'd changed his feelings too many times for him to be asleep. He was awake. This was real. The information may be skewed, but the place was real. The people were real.

And the technology, while he knew nothing of spaceships and aliens beyond some movies and cartoons, was real. At the very least, it was a great deal more technology than he'd seen in a long time.

Kathryn had told him, essentially, that if he didn't fight—if he remained calm, rational, and reasonable—nothing would happen to him. Beyond that, nothing would happen to Carol and, really, Daryl felt responsible for Carol. He'd never forgive himself he did something that, directly, got her injured or killed. Accidents happened, and they knew that, especially in the world that they called home before they ended up here, and either of them might have been killed before they'd been snatched out of their campsite, but that was different.

In their world, as Kathryn had called it, Alpha was dead. The Whisperers were gone. The communities where their companions called home were just starting to try to rebuild after the war against the Whisperers. Carol had needed to get away. She'd wanted space. She'd wanted distance from her past. She'd wanted room to breathe. Daryl had started to settle into the idea of trying life in the communities—if that's what she wanted—but he was just as content to set out, as well, when she seemed determined to run away again. This time, he was running away with her. He wasn't going to simply let her disappear. They'd talked about heading for New Mexico, not that they really knew if anything was out there or if they'd make it that far, but mostly they were just wandering. Maybe they were simply looking for a new life. A new kind of adventure.

They'd certainly found that.

But Kathryn assured them that if they stayed calm, they would be unharmed. They would, in fact, be cared for.

It wasn't like they could run anyway. Daryl could see that Kathryn's counterpart—Chakotay—was wearing something at his belt that Daryl assumed was a weapon. The armed security team that Kathryn had dismissed might have been told they could go, but Daryl was confident they could find their way back, too. He and Carol were empty-handed—they were so empty-handed that they were actually naked under cloth gowns. Even if they were to make some kind of run for it, Daryl wasn't sure what they would be running from, and they had absolutely no idea where they'd be running to.

In short, no matter what the hell he was feeling about things, the only thing he could really do at the moment was choose to trust Kathryn—and that was because there was no alternative and, so far, no reason to do otherwise.

Daryl had felt immensely better when the balding man that they only ever called the doctor—the man who proclaimed himself to be a hologram and, therefore, not even real, though Daryl had touched him and had seen him touching other things, and he seemed just as solid as anyone else—had woken Carol. She'd come out of her sleep refreshed but confused, and Daryl had calmed her, immediately, enough to get her to listen as he made Kathryn repeat, for her, exactly the same thing she'd told Daryl.

It was a complicated story for some kind of ridiculous, elaborate joke. And the world, since the turn, didn't allow people all that much time to make jokes. The realization of which only served to make Daryl's stomach tighten a little bit more at the possibility that the red-headed captain might not be telling a complete lie.

Carol was silent, but her expression said that her silence was mostly owing to a great deal of overwhelm and confusion.

It wasn't every day, after all, that they went from dealing with flesh-eating, reanimated corpses, and a world where people driven mad by everything they'd experienced chose to skin and wear those corpses, to a place where they were being told that they would no longer have any concerns about finding enough food and water to survive—but there were absolutely aliens and spaceships, some of which were set on self-destruction.

Carol stayed, sitting shoulder to shoulder, with Daryl on the cot and, when her stupor wore off, Daryl couldn't help but laugh to himself at her first response.

"Are you an—alien?" She asked, staring at Kathryn.

"She's a human," Daryl offered. "And he's a human. And he's a holograph."

"I'm a hologram!"

"He's a pissed off hologram," Daryl corrected.

The pissed off hologram in question turned to Kathryn like she might do something to help him. She looked at least mildly amused.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," she offered. "Remember…"

"Our guests are new here," he supplied with a hint of sarcasm. He rolled his eyes. "If you'll excuse me, I've got some work to attend to. I'd like the opportunity to further examine them later."

"Understood," Kathryn said. "For the time being, however, let's let them settle in."

Carol thanked the hologram, and he looked a great deal more pleased with her than he did with Daryl. He smiled at her, nodded his head in her direction, and informed her that it was his pleasure to treat her.

They both watched him as he distanced himself, walking into a little glass-enclosed office space to work on whatever it was that he had to do as a holographic doctor.

"I get the feeling that you're both anxious to see an alien," Kathryn said. "I imagine that you're also anxious to settle into your quarters and get to know your new space."

"Are they dangerous?" Carol asked.

"What?" Kathryn asked.

"The aliens," Carol clarified.

Kathryn and Chakotay both laughed. Chakotay, who seemed mostly content to guard silence while he also guarded Kathryn, was starting to relax, especially since Carol had woken up and neither she nor Daryl had made any move to bolt for the doors.

Daryl could see the doors, but he had no idea where they led. Running for them, without being in any immediate danger, didn't make sense.

"Depends on the alien," Chakotay said, laughing to himself.

"While that's not entirely untrue," Kathryn said, "you'll be safe on the ship. Everyone here is a member of my crew—whether officially or unofficially—and, as such, they are not hostile toward any other member of my crew.

"We ain't part of your crew, though," Daryl pointed out.

"But, as circumstances have demanded, you may someday be a part of my crew. In the meantime, you're my friends and you will, in time, I'm sure, become part of my family. You don't have to fear anyone here," Kathryn said. "She slapped her chest, her hand touching the little walkie-talkie pinned to her body. "Kes?"

"I'm here, Captain," a voice responded. Daryl thought it was a pretty safe assumption that the woman who spoke was named Kes.

"Do you have that clothing I asked you to replicate?" Kathryn asked.

"I have it, Captain," Kes replied. "I was just finishing up helping Ensign Mallory prepare quarters."

"Very good, Kes," Kathryn said. "Could you please bring those clothes to sickbay now?"

"Are you sure that you want me to come to sickbay, Captain?" Kes asked. "Or should I send them with Ensign Mallory?"

Kathryn smiled to herself.

"I'm sure that I want you to come, Kes," Kathryn said. "I have some new friends that I want you to meet. Janeway out."

Kathryn smiled at them. It was difficult to tell if she was smiling specifically at Daryl or at Carol.

"Kes is Ocampan," Kathryn said. "She's very young, but she appears to be an adult because of the way that her species ages. She's very kind, and you're going to love her. She's a valued member of our crew."

Before either of them could ask questions about Ocampans or anything else, a young woman came strolling into the room through the double doors—and in the brief second they were open, Daryl could see they led to a hallway. She was carrying stacks of clothes, so Daryl assumed she must be Kes. She walked directly to them, but she kept about a foot and a half of distance from the edge of the table. Kathryn walked over and took the clothes from her.

"Thank you, Kes," she said. "Kes—this is Daryl. And this is Carol."

"Very pleased to meet you," Kes said.

Her voice was soft. She was pretty and petite, and looked nothing at all like what Daryl might have considered fitting for an alien. She might have been a pixie or a fairy with more believability. The only thing that made her look inhuman, actually, was that her ears were long, pointed, and rather odd in appearance.

"You're an alien," Carol said. Whether or not it was a question, Daryl wasn't sure.

Kes smiled pleasantly at Carol.

"I'm an Ocampan," Kes offered. "I'm as alien to you as you are to me. I replicated the clothing to be similar to the clothes that you were wearing. We recycled your clothes and the matches are not exact. I used the closest things we had in the replicators. You can replicate whatever you like later."

"These clothes will do perfectly until we get our guests settled," Kathryn said. "Thank you, Kes."

"Certainly, Captain. My pleasure," Kes said. She turned back to stare at Daryl and Carol.

All of a sudden, Daryl's gut twisted as he accepted that Kes had told the truth and—if this weren't some kind of elaborate trick—he and Carol were probably just as strange to everyone else as they were to them. To an Ocampan, after all, humans must be aliens. He glanced at Carol. Her features had softened, but she still looked confused. Of course she did. Her ears, round and small and perfect, in Daryl's opinion, would look odd to the Ocampan. Of course—the Ocampan was more used to the sight.

And he and Carol—if they truly did come from a world more than three hundred years in the past—were probably practically aliens to Kathryn and Chakotay. He tried to imagine what he'd think if he'd bumped into someone from the sixteenth or seventeenth century.

If this wasn't some kind of trick, then they all had a lot to learn about each other, and they all had a lot of work to do to get used to each other. But at least everyone else had the homefield advantage.

"Everybody speaks English?" Daryl asked, looking to Kathryn. She smiled.

"With the universal translators," she said, "it sounds to you like they do. The ship will automatically translate millions of languages for you. You hear what you need to hear in order to understand. Everyone else does too."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Of course," he said. "Why the fuck didn't I already know that?"

"You're overwhelmed," Kathryn said. "And it's understandable. And I'm sure you'll have questions. Lots of questions. We'll do our best to answer all of them as they arise. But—I do have some things that I really must see about. So, if you'll trust my first officer, Chakotay, he'll allow you both to get dressed and then he'll show you to your quarters."

Kathryn handed over the clothes to Carol, and Carol immediately sorted them into two distinct piles on the table. They were a little odd, but anything was better, to Daryl, than sitting there in nothing but a cloth gown.

"I'm sure we'll be just as fine with Chakotay," Carol offered, "as we will than anyone else."

"You'll be fine," Kathryn assured her, smiling at Carol and taking her hand. She held her hand sandwiched between both of hers. "I promise you that you're going to be comfortable here. Happy. We'll do everything in our power to make that so. And Chakotay is wonderful with people—just give him a chance."

Chakotay walked over and rested his hand familiarly on Carol's shoulder.

"Anything you need," he said, "I can get it for you. I can take care of any problem you have."

Daryl didn't miss the smiled that Kathryn gave Chakotay. He didn't miss the smile that Chakotay gave her, in return.

And he didn't miss the fact that Carol, suddenly, looked a lot more comfortable with the man.

Daryl cleared his throat.

"Can we have one of those walkie-talkies?" He asked. "Everybody's got one."

"We'll get you a combadge," Chakotay assured him. "Just as soon as you're settled, I'll leave you to explore and rest or…whatever you want to do. And I'll get you both communicators. I'll show you how to use them."

"You're in good hands," Kathryn assured them. She reached and affectionately patted Chakotay's chest. "I'll see you both soon. Chakotay—take your time with them. There's no need to rush."

She barely heard Chakotay's acceptance of her order or farewells from Carol or Daryl before she walked with long, quick strides out of the double doors—revealing to Daryl and Carol, again, the hallway beyond for just a moment.

They both followed her with their eyes before turning back to Chakotay. He was standing, arms behind his back, with a smile on his lips.

"If you want to get dressed," he offered, "I'll be in the doctor's office—over there. We'll give you both a little privacy. Whenever you're ready, I can show you around."

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**AN: Of course, since I'm dealing with two couples here (or, you know, two pairs working toward being couples), I'll be switching/mixing POVs and there will be parts where we're focused on one/then the other couple because they will have private time. I just wanted to make sure that you knew. Everyone will be present and accounted for throughout, though.**

**I hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. There's so much I'm excited for us to get to, but we have to lay all the groundwork first, and we have to move through things logically. LOL **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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The two people in Chakotay's care were absolutely adults, but he accepted, for a moment, that they were very much like babies in their understanding of the world around them.

He had studied Earth's history extensively. He had a great deal of interest, in particular, in the way that people used to live and how they'd survived without technology and with very rudimentary technology during different points of history.

The period of the Millennium Plague had been a particularly interesting time period for historians and archeologists alike, because it had represented a true return to nature for the species. The outbreak of the plague had caused a massive number of deaths. It had also shut down everything that the people had known at the time. Electrical grids shut down, gas- and diesel-powered engines stopped functioning in the absence of fuel. Travel by all means except rudimentary ground transportation and boats ceased.

People returned to the ways of their ancestors—very few of them having had any extensive preparation to do so. As a result, it was suspected that the plague, itself, actually killed far fewer members of the population than their actual inability to survive without all of the advances to which they'd become accustomed.

It was also a time period when humanity really shone, in hindsight, because those that survived the Millennium Plague had proved themselves to be strong in body, but also to be true survivors and to possess a great deal of ingenuity. They saved themselves in situations that seemed impossible, and they brought civilization back—stronger than ever, in many ways.

The Millennium Plague, and the return to nature that it represented, was something that had fascinated Kolopak, Chakotay's father, because he saw it as being a return to the way that their ancestors had lived. Kolopak had enjoyed learning about the Millennium Plague and, particularly, its survivors. He'd taught Chakotay a good deal about it as simply something of a lesson that the world will always take back what's hers and that man should never forget how to live in his most basic form. Otherwise, he could be doomed to die simply because he failed to learn from the wisdom of those who had solved the problems of life before him.

Kolopak would have never imagined—those days when he did his best to teach Chakotay what he would need to know in a world that was suddenly returned to nature as it had been in the past—that his son would be face to face with two survivors of that great plague, or that he'd be responsible for teaching them the basics of survival in a world that was going to give them a far better life, probably, than they'd ever imagined.

Chakotay would have the upmost patience for the newcomers for his father's honor and memory, but he'd also have the upmost patience with them because he knew how much it would matter to Kathryn.

It wasn't her fault, directly, that the two people were now onboard Voyager and lost to their old world. Nobody had suspected what the Araulians might be planning until it was too late and their transporter—practically a type of specialty net transporter, made particularly for capture and confinement—had reappeared with the people trapped inside. Hap Soun had already begun their return by the time that her assistants deactivated the bubble and fired on Carol and Daryl—everything happening too quickly for any of them to be able to stop it.

As soon as the bubble had appeared—a clear cage—with Carol and Daryl inside, Kathryn had guessed what was happening. And, even then, the only thing that Kathryn had truly been concerned with was protecting the innocent people that were now walking with Chakotay in Voyager's corridors. Kathryn had put herself in the fight to keep the Araulians from taking them. Ultimately, she'd forced the Araulians to make a choice, and they'd chosen to take their relocation device and flee. Kathryn was willing to sacrifice the technology, and their hope of making it work to return them to the Alpha Quadrant, if it meant saving the two innocent victims from being subjected to whatever kind of experimentation and unknown fate that awaited them.

Chakotay was sure that, if he asked her now, whether or not she thought she'd made the right decision—trading the technology for the humans' lives—she would never hesitate to say that she had. She would get Voyager back to the Alpha Quadrant, eventually, but she would never forget that life—no matter the species—was more important than anything else.

So, Chakotay would care for them as much as Kathryn would. He would do what she wanted. What would make her happy. After all, it was only the right thing to do.

"Here are your quarters," Chakotay said. The doors buzzed open and he led the two of them into the living quarters. The bedroom was separated off from the living quarters and, for the time being, the door to the bedroom was closed. They'd been given senior officer's quarters since they were the most comfortable for housing two people. Immediately upon entering, Carol went directly toward the window. Chakotay and Daryl both followed her.

"It's beautiful!" She declared.

They were in a particularly beautiful area. Chakotay was glad of that when he saw how her face lit up at the view.

"It changes, depending on the atmospheres around us," Chakotay said, "and any passing space anomalies. It is beautiful, though." He stood there a moment and watched the two of them peering out the window. He tried to remember the first time that he went to space. He'd been very young then, and it had been magical. He wondered if it was even more magical if the first time you went to space was also the first time you really realized that such a thing would be possible in your life. "I'll take you to the mess hall later to get you something to eat," Chakotay said, interrupting their gazing out the window. "Captain Janeway—Kathryn—thought that you might like the opportunity to come back here and relax and freshen up. A good bath or a shower can really change you outlook, sometimes. She's a fan of baths, mostly, but I'm a sonic shower man myself."

"Sonic shower?" Daryl asked, furrowing his brow at Chakotay.

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"For now, maybe you'll just stick to regular showers. Just remember—whatever you want to do, you just tell the computer what you want. You turn the computer on by simply saying 'computer' in a command tone. Watch this. Computer, locate Captain Janeway."

Chakotay heard the familiar beep of the computer complying with his request, but Carol and Daryl looked around to try to locate the sound of the noise.

"Captain Janeway is in her ready room," the computer announced.

"So, when you want to—fill the tub or activate the shower, you simply make your command and it'll be taken care of," Chakotay said. "You were decontaminated by the doctor, but you might prefer to actually bathe. While you're taking care of that, I can step away and activate combadges for you." They were both staring at him, mouths slightly open, and he did his best to hide his amusement. "Too much, too fast." He tapped his chest, pointing to his combadge. "The talkie chatty thing? It's called a combadge. Or, sometimes, a communicator, but we have other handheld communicators as well. Your combadge will have other features."

Daryl laughed and Carol looked amused.

"The talkie chatty thing?" Daryl asked. "You mean a walkie talkie?"

Chakotay smiled to himself.

"Some of your technology is foreign to me," Chakotay said. "I would have been more familiar with telephones or—or tin cans connected by string." They seemed relieved by a joke that they could understand. Maybe both of them needed a little lightness at the moment. "It will take me a few minutes to get your combadges programmed. During that time, I thought you could take a shower or a bath. Relax. Then, when you're ready, I can take you to the mess hall for something to eat."

"Will we be locked in here?" Carol asked.

Chakotay shook his head.

"This is your home now. Voyager is your home. You're free to come and go as you please on the ship. I only thought that you might like to have me with you in case you're finding it difficult to navigate the corridors your first time wandering around. In addition, Kes is the only non-human that you've seen. You may have questions if you begin to meet the ship's crew."

"Yeah," Daryl said. "We'll wait. Shower or whatever…"

"You could use a shower. I know I could. We haven't had a good shower in at least two weeks," Carol said. "Since we left for New Mexico."

Daryl laughed, clearly amused by something.

"Somethin' tells me we ain't makin' it to New Mexico, Carol," Daryl said. "And we sure as shit ain't in Kansas no more."

Carol laughed to herself. Chakotay was confident it was something meant for only the two of them. He knew where both Kansas and New Mexico were, but when Voyager had materialized in their time period, their sensors had indicated that they were somewhere near what the people of that time would have indicated as being part of Georgia or Alabama. Still, Chakotay let them have their joke. They needed it, and it seemed to make them both feel better.

He cleared his throat as their amusement faded. He gestured toward the replicator.

"If you'll come here, I'll just show you one last piece of our technology that you might find useful in my absence," Chakotay said. They both followed him and stood around the machine. "This is a replicator. It's what we use to make the things that we need. Now—the captain and I are both donating replicator rations to the two of you until we can get your accounts activated. Still, I'm sure that many of the crew members will also donate rations to you to help you become comfortable here, so there's nothing you need to worry about."

"Rations?" Daryl asked.

"We're a long way from home, too," Chakotay said. "To preserve certain stores of power that we have, we issue rations to the crew. As I said, you don't need to worry about it. We'll help you. For the time being—if you want anything to eat or drink, you can order it here."

"What do you mean order it?" Carol asked. "Like—call someone?"

"Or like a drive-thru?" Daryl asked.

Chakotay held his hand up to still both of them. He looked at Carol and smiled. She was a lovely woman, but she'd looked mostly concerned since she'd opened her eyes in sickbay. The only peek at what she might look like, otherwise, was the brief moment of amazement at the window and the flash of humor at Daryl's joke about the various states they'd known.

"What would you like to drink," Chakotay said, "if you could have anything you wanted right now."

"Anything?" She asked.

"Anything," Chakotay said. "What would you like to drink?"

Carol thought about it a moment and then smiled to herself.

"A good cup of hot coffee," she breathed out. Chakotay couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm and her order.

"A woman after the captain's heart," he teased. "Captain Janeway would say you have impeccable taste. Now, Carol, how do you take your coffee? With cream?"

"You have cream?" She asked.

"We have anything you want," Chakotay said. Carol nodded her head. "With cream?" He asked for clarification. She nodded again. "Sugar?" He asked. He could immediately tell from her facial expression that she didn't want sugar and he couldn't resist the opportunity to try to bring another smile to her face. "Of course not," he said. "I can tell that someone as sweet as you doesn't need sugar."

A smile spread across Carol's face and her cheeks blushed. There was a scoff just behind her, though.

"That line died more'n three hundred years ago."

Chakotay looked at Daryl. He was not attempting to hide an expression of disapproval.

"I beg your pardon?" Chakotay asked.

"I said that line," Daryl said. "It died more'n three hundred years ago."

Chakotay smiled to himself. He nodded his head. Of course. He'd overstepped. He'd meant to flatter Carol simply to amuse her. He'd accidentally overstepped his boundaries, however, by flirting with her—no matter how playfully. He recognized his error. No man—regardless of his time period—was going to approve of another man flirting with his mate.

Chakotay, of course, was in no position to feel that way about anyone. He was single and didn't see that being changed any time soon. Yet, he still knew that he would not appreciate it if he were in Daryl's position—especially since he wouldn't have even appreciated it with a woman over whom he had no actual claim at all, but for whom he had a great deal of affection.

"My apologies," Chakotay said sincerely. He looked at both Daryl and then Carol. She shook her head at him, attempting to dismiss any hurt feelings, perhaps, but he simply smiled to make it clear that he had no hurt feelings for anyone. Instead, he pointed to the replicator. "Coffee. With Cream."

The steaming drink materialized in the replicator and Chakotay took it and handed the hot mug to Carol. She stared at it.

"Is this real?" She asked.

"Absolutely real," Chakotay assured her. "Try it."

"Don't drink that," Daryl said quickly. "Prob'ly kill you, appearin' outta thin air like that. Where the hell'd it come from?"

"It's replicator technology," Chakotay said. "I assure that it's perfectly fine to drink. Still—would you rather I tasted it first?"

Daryl looked at him like he wasn't sure what he wanted, but he clearly had some concern about Carol tasting it. Carol, however, seemed to have a little less anxiety surrounding the cup of coffee in her hand. She raised it to her lips and tasted the liquid. She closed her eyes and hummed out her satisfaction.

"Good?" Chakotay asked.

"It's perfect," Carol assured him. She offered it to Daryl. "Try some—it's incredible."

"Yeah," Daryl said. "Maybe some other time. You got real food around here?"

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"There's non-replicated food in the mess hall," he said. "I'll leave you to get bathed. Get settled in. Kes told me that there are extra clothes and any items they anticipated you needing. Anything you're missing, you just order it here—the same way that I did the coffee. I'll go get your combadges. When I come back, we can take a tour of the bridge and I'll escort you to the mess hall for a meal."

The two humans accepted his suggestion, and they bid him farewell—both of them standing at the door of their quarters—when he left. Carol was smiling at him, and she waved goodbye with the hand not holding her coffee, but Daryl—with his hand on Carol's shoulder—simply offered a short and slightly dismissive goodbye.

And Chakotay wasn't offended by any of it. He only hoped he could have the opportunity, later, to make it up to the man, and to make it clear to him that he'd never intended, in any way, to make any uncomfortable advances toward his mate. He thought a trip to the holodeck might be in order, to give them a little male-bonding time, but it wouldn't be appropriate until they were a little more settled in, and he was sure that Carol would have something to occupy her time. After all, the last thing Chakotay wanted to do was to create any kind of discord in their relationship.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**We're slowly making progress, and I'm really excited for getting to know our characters better and seeing them in different situations. You should know that I'm back to work and taking a class, so I'll write when I have the chance!**

**If you're familiar with Voyager, then you should probably know that I'm like an episode pirate. I may use bits, pieces, and ideas from episodes, but I probably won't follow any of them exactly. I'll also make up plenty of my own stuff as we go along. Please don't expect things to follow the show, exactly, in any way. **

**That being said, I do hope you enjoy! I thank you all for reading and reviewing. Some of your comments are really making my day(s)! Let me know what you think of the chapter! **

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"Come in."

When Chakotay heard the familiar words, he stepped into Kathryn's ready room. She was leaned on her elbow, studying something on her computer screen. Beside her, there was a half-finished cup of coffee. Her hand rested on the handle like she was prepared to drink from the cup as soon as she remembered that's what she'd been doing.

When she saw Chakotay, she smiled radiantly and immediately got to her feet—abandoning coffee and all. She walked around her desk to close the distance between them.

Chakotay couldn't help but smile to himself. Her eyes positively shone when she was excited about something, and it always made him want to smile when he saw it.

"Well? Did you get our guests settled?" Kathryn asked.

"They are in their quarters," Chakotay said. "I just came down to get their combadges." He held out his hand to show her the two badges in his palm.

"What'd they say about their quarters?" Kathryn asked.

"Nothing, really," Chakotay said. "They both seem to be fans of looking out the window."

"For them, seeing space must be so very overwhelming for the first time," Kathryn said. There was enough awe in her voice that Chakotay could almost imagine that she was jealous of them. Kathryn loved adventure.

"Carol is a fan of coffee, so you'll have plenty to talk about," Chakotay said.

"Oh—I'll have to invite her to coffee one day," Kathryn said. "So, you're taking their combadges and then?"

"I'm taking them to the mess hall," Chakotay said. "To get them something to eat. Daryl is suspicious of the replicator. I'm afraid that—if I don't show them where to get food, he might starve out of suspicion."

Kathryn laughed and then her laugh dissolved into a sound of disappointment.

"Oh—I wish I had time to go with you to dinner," she said. "I'd love to sit and talk to them. Get to know more about them. Hear what their lives were like." She walked quickly around her desk again and then sat down at her computer. She held a finger up to him—a sign to wait. He'd stand there however long she liked. "The long-range sensors are clear and I took a break from reading logs. I've been reading about the Millennium Plague. The Araulians took us to the time period that started what our histories call the Era of New Life. Isn't that poetic?"

Chakotay laughed to himself.

She looked at him with expectation. She looked at him, practically, with stars in her eyes. She loved to learn things. Sometimes, he told her stories that his father had told him just to see her looking at him with that expression for the duration of the tale.

Right then, he wished he could think of anything to say to her that would sound half as poetic, to her ears, as the Era of New Life.

Chakotay smiled at her and leaned on her desk. The combadges could wait. Daryl and Carol, after all, probably needed some processing time before Chakotay took them into the hustle and bustle of a busy mess hall.

"It's very poetic. I don't know too many details about the era. I'm familiar with the basics of the Millennium Plague," Chakotay said. "An outbreak caused by a mutated virus that was the result of an experiment gone wrong."

"A botched attempt to create immortality," Kathryn said, more as a musing than as a way to finish what Chakotay had started. "If history is correct," Kathryn continued, and Chakotay understood full well that history may not be entirely accurate about that time period, "and the data recorded by our sensors is correct, then they were just at the start of the Era of New Life. It would have lasted approximately another ten years before the first major cities were constructed, the power grids were online, and people were starting to register with the census. Those like Daryl and Carol—who were in it since the beginning and weren't born during the Plague Years? They would have spent between twenty and twenty-five years of their lives in a world practically lost in time."

Chakotay smiled.

"And now they really are lost in time," Chakotay said. "And very much outside of the world as they knew it."

"I wondered if we'd see the reverberations of this in some way," Kathryn said. "The disappearance of two long-term survivors. I ran a scan to see if I could find any information on Daryl or Carol Dixon."

"I'm guessing that they weren't the heads of one of the major cities or anything like that," Chakotay said. "Otherwise we might have felt some of the effects even now."

"Nothing," Kathryn said. She shook her head. "They don't show up on any census."

"Well—it's for the better," Chakotay said. "It means that their loss will be minimal."

"I've only just met them," Kathryn said. "But now that I know their faces, I hate to think of them dying out there, alone somewhere."

Chakotay smiled at her. His chest ached because he could feel how much she was feeling. She was a wonderful captain, but one of the things that made her such a wonderful captain was that she was very empathetic. She made hard choices—and he'd already seen her make quite a few—and she took the consequences of those choices. But she felt everything very deeply.

Chakotay hoped he wasn't imagining it because he wanted to think she felt as close to him as he felt to her—because he wouldn't dare to ask her how she felt about him—but he thought she showed her emotions more freely with him than she did with anyone else.

And he wanted to make her feel better—even if her heart was only aching for what had happened in an alternate time that was now disrupted.

He walked around her desk and rested his hand on her shoulder as a show of comfort. She didn't shake it off, and she didn't reprimand him for the affection. Instead, she reached her hand up and patted his.

"They didn't die out there alone, Kathryn," Chakotay said. "Even if they had—even in the version of history where, maybe, they died—they didn't die alone. They would've have been together until the end. They would have gone together." Kathryn smiled at him. Her features lit up with this alternate explanation of a reality that no longer existed.

"You think so?" She asked.

Chakotay nodded.

"I'm sure of it," he said. "And—maybe they didn't die in the Millennium Plague. Maybe the thought of returning to—to something like what they'd know before no longer appealed to them. Twenty something years is a long time. Maybe they just—settled somewhere outside of the majorly populated areas and just lived out their lives."

"Together," Kathryn finished.

"Together," Chakotay agreed.

"Oh—that's very romantic," she said. There was a slight upward lift in her eyebrow. Chakotay didn't know if there was a hint of teasing there, but he knew that she really did enjoy the sweetness of the thought. He patted her shoulder and pulled his hand away.

He never liked to linger too long. It was better not to focus too long on what you wanted, but would probably never have.

He cleared his throat to cover over the tightness that formed there at the simple thought of having a life that was as romantic as the one they'd just imagined.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Chakotay said. "They're alive now. Their history will be different."

"I looked for their children," Kathryn said. "But there are so many Dixons than any of these could be their children or grandchildren."

"They don't have any children, remember?" Chakotay asked. "Daryl said they died."

"They could have had more children," Kathryn said.

Chakotay nodded.

For whatever reason, he could see that it was important to her that they get their happy ending and absolutely anything that might entail.

"They might have," Chakotay said.

"But now they'll just—disappear," Kathryn said. "By now their children wouldn't even be showing up in our databases, would they? Vanished from history."

"But history that can be rewritten one way can be rewritten another," Chakotay offered. "Now the history of the Dixons left behind after the Millennium Plague may be different, but so will the history of the Dixons who travelled aboard Voyager from the Delta Quadrant to the Alpha Quadrant."

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"It's fun to imagine," Kathryn said. "Still—I do wish I was going with you to dinner. I can't wait for them to meet Neelix. He'll adore them, and I can't wait to see their reaction to him."

"Hopefully he at least serves them something edible," Chakotay said. "I really should get them an early dinner and return them back to their quarters as quickly as possible. I need to return to duty."

"Long-range sensors show nothing," Kathryn said. "You're on duty. You've simply been reassigned. Don't rush them through dinner. Take your time with them."

"Then why don't you join us?" Chakotay asked.

"I'm on duty," Kathryn said.

"You just said that long-range sensors are clear," Chakotay said. "And you just identified helping them get adjusted as duty. Why can't you do your duty just as efficiently from the mess hall as you can from your ready room?"

Kathryn sighed.

"Because I really need to stop reading about the Millennium Plague…and stop trying to predict how our little blunder with the Araulians is going to impact Earth's history…long enough to finish reading these reports. If I don't, I'll be up to my ears in reports and I'll have a half a dozen angry crewmembers waiting on replies about one thing or another." She hesitated a moment like she might change her mind, but then she sighed and shook her head before she reached for a PADD with some defeat. "No—I've got to finish this."

"Fine," Chakotay ceded, his own stomach twisting with disappointment for her. He knew, though, that if he offered to do some of her work for her, she'd just decline the offer with some speech about how a captain's life had to be nothing but work and unhappiness—even if she'd choose to use different words. "I tell you what. What if I were to take them to get something light to eat? Take them on a tour of the ship. And then they could meet you this evening for a private meal. A dinner or—or coffee—with the captain."

Kathryn's eyes lit up again and she put the PADD down for a moment where she'd been staring at the first page of a report. She smiled at him.

"That would be wonderful," she said. "We could have drinks and dinner in my cabin."

Chakotay nodded, pleased to see her smile again.

"I'll drop them off after your shift. Does 1900 hours sound good?" Chakotay asked.

"Perfect," Kathryn said. "Except—you won't drop them off. You'll stay and have dinner and drinks with us."

"You might want some time to get to know them alone," Chakotay offered, his heart kicking up a beat at the simple invitation to spend a little more time in her presence.

"I won't hear about it," Kathryn said. "You'll stay. Dinner and drinks. Besides—I want your opinion."

"On anything in particular?" Chakotay asked.

"Duty assignments," Kathryn said. "Carol and Daryl come from a time period where their every moment would have been occupied. Sitting still is going to be very difficult for them. The sooner they have something to do, the sooner they'll really start to acclimate. I was thinking we could talk to them. Figure out where they might be well-suited. Get them out to do a few shifts to see what they like. What they're good at."

Chakotay smiled at her.

"I'll be happy to help you come up with some ideas, Captain," he assured her. "Now—you need to get back to those reports so you're not tempted to cancel dinner. You don't want to disappoint our guests on their first evening here. And I'm going to take them their combadges. We might want to mute them for a while. I have a feeling they'll be using them a great deal just for the novelty of it."

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"Let them," she said. "The ship could use a little entertainment."


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think! **

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Beyond the bathroom door, Daryl could hear the water splashing. He could hear Carol, every now and again, hum to herself in satisfaction.

If this was a dream, or a trick, or even some kind of science experiment, Daryl wasn't sure that he wanted it to end—not if it remained just like it was.

She'd taken her cup of coffee to the bathroom with her. As soon as they'd come back inside the place that Chakotay had identified as their new home, Carol had practically walked straight to the bathroom with her cup of coffee in hand, and she'd stood in the bathroom loudly suggesting to the air that the shower needed to turn on.

Daryl had been the one to figure out the trick by calling on the "computer" before he announced that Carol wanted the shower on, and she wanted it hot.

The coffee was delicious, she'd said. And she'd called, through the closed bathroom door, that the shower was wonderful. Now she was humming to herself, every now and again, in satisfaction. It was a welcomed break from seeing her simply surviving—looking for something she trusted to give her even a scrap of lingering happiness.

Alpha's death had brought some peace to Carol. At least, for all the children that she'd lost—and Daryl had shared a great many of Carol's secrets after a mini-breakdown that had followed at the relief of seeing Alpha's head so very well separated from her body—she felt like she got some kind of revenge for the final loss of Henry. It wouldn't bring him back, but at least she felt like she'd gotten something.

Still, it was distance and space that she believed would bring her peace. It was time and room to breathe. It was a new world and an entirely new life that they'd gone seeking when they'd said goodbye to everyone and set out for New Mexico.

And maybe this place was just right to offer Carol something of a new life.

Daryl looked around their quarters, as Chakotay had called them.

The area where the man had produced coffee out of thin air for Carol was a living room of sorts. It was just a plain space, but it was very clean and it felt oddly secure. Daryl tested to doors once or twice, but they opened every time. They weren't locked in. They could, as Chakotay had said, come and go as they pleased—they simply didn't know where there was to go or how to return if they left. The hallways beyond the door were an almost dizzying blur of doors, lights, and repetitive carpet. It reminded Daryl of a hotel. Still, without knowing where he was or how to get back to Carol if he wandered too many doors away, Daryl simply stepped back into their quarters, allowed the automatic doors to hiss closed, and waited for Carol to finish her shower.

Beyond the living room, they had a bedroom where there was a connected bathroom.

The bedroom was also clean and plain. Just as there were towels and even bathrobes stacked for them in the bathroom, there was an extra change of clothes for each of them on the edge of the bed.

The edge of the only bed in their quarters.

Daryl sat down on the foot of the bed and waited for Carol to finish her shower. He waited to hear her loudly announce to the computer that it could turn off the water. He caught the satisfied giggle that escaped her when the computer obeyed her. He waited while she dried and dressed, and he heard her bumping around the rather spacious bathroom before she opened the door and stepped out in a practical fog of flower-scented warm and damp air.

Her hair was wet, but she'd still pinned it up and out of her face with something she must have found around the bathroom. The pointy-eared woman—Kes—had done her best to think of the things that Daryl and Carol might want. The clothes that she'd given Carol were similar to the ones she'd been wearing, but clean and softer in some way. They looked good on her—or maybe it was simply the prospect of a whole new life in a whole new world that looked good on her.

If Daryl hadn't known any better, he might have insisted that the shower washed ten years off of her.

"Good shower?" Daryl asked, standing up.

Carol smiled at him. He loved to see her smile. A genuine smile from Carol had always been worth anything that he had to do to earn it.

"It stays hot the whole time," Carol said. "You should take one."

"Don't know when he'll be back," Daryl offered.

"He'll wait," Carol said.

"What happened to your coffee?" Daryl asked. "It disappear?"

"I finished it," Carol said. "While I was showering. I almost felt like royalty. Hot water, coffee. The soap smells so good…"

She smelled her own hand and then offered it out to Daryl. He could smell the soap in the air, but he leaned forward, anyway, to be closer to her.

"Smells good," he offered. He looked around the little room. "They—uh—put us in some tight quarters."

Carol looked around and a hint of a smile drifted across her lips.

"I would say some of them have been tighter," she offered. "After the farm, especially."

Daryl laughed to himself. He remembered the time on the road when they'd shared space sleeping in cars, barns, or anywhere else they could find a spot to lay their heads. It seemed like a million years ago and, now, it seemed like a different world entirely.

"There's only one bed," Daryl said.

Carol stared at the bed. She contemplated it much longer than was necessary, really, to stare at a bed. Then she looked at Daryl and gently shrugged her shoulders.

"I can sleep on the couch," she offered. "Or—tell Chakotay we'll need another room?"

Daryl's stomach tightened at the thought of either of them moving to some other room aboard this ship—if they were really on a ship at all.

"Better if we stay together," he said.

Carol simply nodded her head, her eyes focused on him. She didn't ask him why it was better. She didn't seem like she wanted to discuss it. It seemed like she'd already decided that it was better, as well, so she accepted it.

"It's not much different than two sleeping bags," Carol offered. "Side by side."

Daryl nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "It'll be fine. Be good. I'ma—shower."

"Good," Carol said. "Next to the soap—you're really starting to smell."

Daryl accepted the good-natured teasing because he knew that's what it was. He did smell next to the floral soap that filled the air. He smelled like sweat and dirt. He smelled faintly of their campfire. It was in his hair, but soon, he'd wash it away.

"Don't go nowhere," Daryl offered.

"Just to the living room," Carol said, pointing toward the area where she was already headed. Daryl nodded at her and stepped into the bathroom to have his own shower.

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Carol walked over to the window and gazed out. It was as though a very clear night full of stars was gliding past the glass as they rolled along.

She didn't know where they were or where they were going.

If Kathryn—apparently the captain of this ship—was telling the truth, they were in some place that Carol had never heard of before. They were in the Delta Quadrant and Earth was thousands of lightyears away.

Carol didn't even know what a lightyear was, but she knew that she felt oddly lighter simply believing that there were thousands of them between her and the life that she'd known.

Earth had been cruel to Carol. Her life there had simply been one painful loss after another. She'd lost her parents early—now it seemed like several lifetimes ago since she'd seen them or felt their love. She'd married Ed, believing he loved her, and she'd soon lost that when she'd realized that he only wanted to control her. A man who spent years abusing her mind and body wasn't worth her mourning.

And everything beautiful and wonderful that Earth had given her, it had taken away.

Sophia, her baby girl, had been the most precious thing in her life. She'd been ripped away just as Carol had begun to imagine a new life with her—one that was out from under Ed's thumb.

She'd been reluctant to get close to Lizzie or Mika, even though she'd adopted them when their father had died and left them to her, but she'd finally started to give in. In the little house in the pecan grove, Carol had begun to imagine a different life entirely—and she'd lost them both.

She held out longer with Henry. She fought harder against loving him. Finally, though, she'd given in. She'd trusted that he would make it. She'd seen him growing into a man that would find love and build a life. Then Alpha had taken his head. She'd lost hers for the act, but it wouldn't bring Henry back. It wouldn't fill Carol's empty arms.

Earth had been cruel to Carol and, really, her heart beat a little differently in her chest to simply imagine that, maybe, she'd left the planet behind entirely.

Maybe this really was the chance at a new life. She wanted that. She wanted the chance to start over entirely. Maybe, away from Earth, she could actually find the kind of life she'd dreamed of before she'd started to accept that her lot in life was to suffer at every turn.

Maybe she was meant to live among the stars.

Daryl would probably think she was mad if she told him that she was excited about the potential that lie before them. She wouldn't tell him that just yet. She wouldn't tell him, either, that she was grateful—so grateful—that they were there together.

She knew that Daryl thought of her as his best friend, and that was enough for now. He was her best friend, and she was happy to be with him—no matter where they ended up.

She wouldn't tell him that she'd been intrigued by him since the rock quarry outside Atlanta. She wouldn't tell him that she'd admired him since the CDC. She wouldn't tell him that she'd loved him since Hershel's farm.

She wouldn't tell him that she was happy about the fact that she felt something growing inside her at the thought of a new life and a fresh start, and she was happy that he was with her.

Daryl might not be ready to hear all of that. So, she wouldn't tell him.

Right now, if Carol knew him as well as she believed she did, he would be worried about if they were safe. Carol didn't know if they were safe, but she had a gut feeling that they were. It was a strange sensation because she did, actually, feel safe—and she couldn't quite recall the last time she'd felt that. Even if she weren't safe, though, she wasn't sure exactly what to do about it unless she were to attack their captors—and it felt odd to even humorously think of Kathryn and Chakotay as their captors—with the coffee table or the flowers that had, undoubtedly, been placed there to make them feel more welcome.

Carol didn't feel threatened, and that was a wonderful feeling. After all, she'd felt threatened since almost a month after she'd married Ed. The sensation hadn't lifted, really, until she'd been in the shower. It was as though she'd been washing it all away with the hot water. Still, she would accept Daryl's need to try to keep them safe. She appreciated, at least, that he wanted to protect her, even though she knew that he understood that she could protect herself. She'd learned to protect herself. The world had taught her that. She respected Daryl's need to protect, and she wouldn't take that from him.

Carol jumped, her contemplation of the stars interrupted, when there was a whistling noise that she hadn't heard before. She walked around, looking for the source of the noise, and the doors slid open.

"May I come in?" Chakotay asked, standing in the doorway.

Carol smiled at him.

"It's more your home than mine," she offered. Chakotay stepped into the space.

"Hopefully you won't feel that way for long," he said. "I wasn't sure if you'd recognize the sound of the chime. When you hear it, you can say 'come in.' Unless, of course, you don't want the person to come inside."

"A doorbell," Carol said.

"Exactly," Chakotay ceded. "Are you—ready to go? Where's Daryl?"

"He's finishing his shower," Carol said.

"We can wait," Chakotay assured her. "I thought we'd go to the mess hall. Let you get something light to eat. Then, I can take you on a tour of the ship. Answer any questions you might have. This evening, when she finishes her duty, we've been invited to dinner and drinks in the captain's quarters."

"That sounds—important," Carol said. "I have to say—we don't know how to do captain's dinners or…whatever." She laughed to herself. "It's been a long time since an uninterrupted dinner was even guaranteed."

Chakotay laughed.

"There are no guarantees that things aren't interrupted here, either," he said. "Voyager is a very busy place sometimes. Still, it's just dinner and drinks. Captain Janeway—Kathryn—would just like to get to know you both better. Have dinner. It's nothing formal. You can refuse, though, if you like."

Carol smiled to herself. She was confident that there would be no punishment or repercussion if they were to refuse the invitation. Still, she could see something in Chakotay's eyes that said there would be some disappointment.

"I think I can answer for both of us when I say—we'd be happy to eat dinner with both of you," Carol said.

"Great," Chakotay said.

"I'll go check on Daryl," Carol offered. "I'm sure it won't take him much longer. He might've forgotten—how to turn the shower off."

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"It's tricky, I'm sure," he said. "But you'll both learn quickly."


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. If you haven't read the previous one (because I posted it earlier today), please don't miss it. **

**I'm so excited that some of you are still enjoying it! We have lots of fun things to come. (After all, we have two couples to wrangle together in this one. LOL)**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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"You must be our new guests from the Alpha Quadrant!"

Carol was startled by the enthusiasm of the thing that ran toward them. She stepped back in her surprise, immediately stepped onto Chakotay's foot, and then, in trying to get off his foot and apologize for accidentally treading on him, she bumped fully into his body. He stopped her from doing any more damage to either one of them by simply catching her by both her arms to steady her.

Daryl's response, Carol felt, was more to seeing her startled than to actually being rushed by the thing that had approached them. He stepped in between her and the thing and, without any sort of weapon to draw in warning, raised his hands like he fully intended to square off with the alien in a fist-fight.

The alien stopped, surprised, and then retreated a few steps backward with a nervous chittering ramble of words.

"Daryl!" Chakotay called, catching Daryl's attention. He patted Carol's arms, and stepped around her to put himself somewhat between Daryl and the alien. "I can see that I may have made a mistake in not preparing everyone prior to the meeting. Carol. Daryl. This is Neelix. He's Talaxian. He's our—chef."

"And morale officer," Neelix offered, stepping a little more confidently from behind the counter where he'd taken refuge. He smoothed down the garishly colored jacket that he was wearing and smiled broadly at Carol and Daryl.

Daryl had lowered his hands, but his stance said he was less sure about Talaxians than he had been about the Ocampan woman they'd met earlier. Carol was rather amused by the Talaxian, though, now that she recognized he was simply, maybe, a little too enthusiastic, but not at all harmful.

She stepped forward and offered her hand.

"I don't know how—Talaxians—say hello," she offered.

Neelix closed her hand in both of his, affectionately.

"Any way you want to say it, really, will be fine," he said. "Uh...um…Carol?"

Carol nodded her head.

"Neelix?" She asked. He nodded.

"At your service," he said with a smile. "I prepare the meals on Voyager. Snacks, too. In addition, I can prepare most anything you request. I'm always looking for new recipes. The captain told me that you're from the past. Our Lieutenant Tom Paris is a very big aficionado of Earth's past. I'm sure you could offer some very interesting recipes that I could share with him and the crew."

"I'd like that," Carol assured him. "I like to cook. And I enjoy baking. I wouldn't mind learning a few of your Talaxian recipes."

"Talax is certainly home to some culinary delights," Neelix offered, "but I've collected recipes from all over the galaxy. Do you like chocolate?"

Carol smiled at him.

"Of course, I like chocolate," she said.

"Then, you'll have to try my Jiballian fudge cake," Neelix said. "It's a complicated recipe, and I only make for special occasions, but I think that welcoming you both to Voyager could be celebrated as a special occasion." He looked to Chakotay like he wanted confirmation. "It would be good for morale," he offered, as though that might somehow seal the deal.

"I think welcoming Carol and Daryl aboard would definitely be a special occasion," Chakotay said. "And I believe that the captain will want to do something in their honor as soon as they're a bit more settled in, so why don't you hold onto that cake for now?"

"Certainly, Commander," Neelix responded.

Daryl had visibly relaxed, now, and Carol moved closer to him and rested her hand on his shoulder as a show of comfort. He looked at her, brow furrowed, but she immediately knew the expression wasn't meant for her as much as it was simply a reaction to the situation.

"Neelix," Neelix offered, holding his hand out to Daryl the same way that Carol had held hers out to him earlier.

Daryl took his hand and shook it, but the line between his brows never entirely faded.

"Daryl," he did manage to say after a second of hesitation. "You cook the food?"

"Every meal," Neelix said. "And snacks. Can I—get you something to eat? I have a wonderful stir fry dish prepared from a recipe that Ensign Meriwether found. It's using vegetables from our airponics bay and a delightful sauce."

"Let's have a seat," Chakotay said, waving toward some tables. "Neelix—maybe just two small plates? We'll be having dinner with the captain later."

"None for you?" Neelix asked.

"Just for our guests," Chakotay confirmed.

Carol and Daryl followed Chakotay's leading to a table and they sat down, side-by-side while he sat across from them after producing something from his pocket. He placed the items he held on the table. The walkie talkie devices that he'd gone to get earlier laid in front of them.

"These are your combadges," Chakotay said. "Do you need help to get them fastened?"

Carol picked hers up and studied it at the same time that Daryl did. They appeared to simply pin on. She shook her head and fastened hers quickly and easily to the comfortable shirt she'd been provided. Daryl fumbled with his a bit more, but he got it fastened into place.

"How's it work?" Daryl asked.

Chakotay smiled at him.

"You simply—touch your combadge," Chakotay said, "and request to speak to someone."

He touched his combadge.

"Chakotay to Captain Janeway," he said.

"Go ahead, Commander," Kathryn's voice responded.

"Permission to test the combadges of Carol and Daryl?" He asked.

"I'm looking forward to it," Kathryn said. "Janeway out."

"Touch yours," Chakotay said. "Carol—you first. And ask for Captain Janeway. She'll be waiting."

Carol touched her combadge and it chirped in the same way that Chakotay's had.

"Carol to Kathryn," Carol said. "I mean—to Captain Janeway."

"I'm here, Carol," Kathryn said, her voice coming through the little badge. "And the computer will recognize me through either command, though it works better with Captain Janeway. I'm happy you have your combadges."

Carol couldn't help but smile. She'd had no idea where the woman might be located on the ship, but she was speaking to her as clearly as if she were across the table.

"We're looking forward to dinner," Carol said.

"I look forward to it, too," Kathryn assured her. "Janeway out."

"Your turn," Carol said, tapping Daryl's arm. He touched his badge. "Daryl to Janeway."

Chakotay laughed quietly across the table, but he swallowed it down quickly and simply sat there looking somewhat amused. Carol could see Daryl's cheeks run pink with color. She felt her own cheeks grow warm as well. It was embarrassing not to be sure if you were doing something that was so very basic correctly, but there was a learning curve for everything.

"It's good to hear from you, Daryl," Kathryn's voice announced, some humor coming through. "I trust that you're finding everything to your liking?"

"It's fine," Daryl offered.

"I look forward to seeing you both at dinner," Kathryn assured him.

"Yeah—we're…glad about it. Ten four." Daryl looked at Chakotay. "Did it hang up now?"

"Try—Daryl out," Janeway offered.

Daryl cleared his throat. He'd clearly not expected her to still be there.

"Daryl out," he announced.

"You'll understand everything in no time," Chakotay offered.

"Here you are," Neelix said, coming over and placing plates of food in front of them. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Water," Daryl said.

"Water, please," Carol agreed, even though she'd really like another cup of the coffee she had earlier.

"How is it?" Chakotay asked.

"It's hot, fresh, and there's more of it," Daryl offered. "It's already better'n most of what we've been eating."

Carol laughed to herself at Daryl's description, but he was telling the truth.

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Carol had been smiling long enough that Daryl thought her face might ache. He caught himself, as well, smiling. He couldn't help it. He realized that he didn't want to help it.

She was close enough to him that their shoulders kept bumping each other if either of them swayed even slightly in their steps. She looked at him and smiled every time they chose another turn in the hallways around them.

The challenge was simple. They were going to meet Chakotay back at their quarters. Their request was that he simply take another path to get there or wait some time to allow them to have a head start. They would find their way back—including navigating the elevator that worked by voice command like everything else on the ship—using what they could remember from their trip down to the mess hall.

At every junction, twist, and turn, they made a decision together—left or right? Did they turn back? Had they gone too far in one direction or missed something entirely? Were they even on the right level? Carol remembered clearly the level announced for the mess hall, but she couldn't remember where they'd started the journey. Daryl couldn't even remember if they'd ever known.

They nearly bumped into a door.

"Dead end," Carol said. She laughed to herself. "I think it's official. We're lost."

She was slightly out of breath. Daryl realized that he, too, was a little out of breath. They'd been covering ground quickly as they moved in one direction and then another around the hallways—dodging people in uniforms that eyed them like they were as odd in appearance as Neelix had been.

"I think we doubled back too many times," Daryl said. "Confused ourselves."

"I thought you were supposed to be a wonderful tracker," Carol teased.

Daryl rolled his eyes at her.

"To track you gotta have shit to track in," Daryl said. "Dirt. Grass. Trees. Shit that don't all look the same all the time. One glowin' trail of lights looks like another, and these hallways get damn near dizzying after a while."

Carol laughed to herself.

"I guess we call him," Carol said, reaching for her combadge.

Daryl reached and caught her hand, stopping her from touching the badge. She looked surprised as he held her hand in his. He was surprised, too. He'd made the movement out of instinct, almost, rather than out of a planned decision to keep her from calling Chakotay to come and rescue them.

Slowly, his stomach tightened as he realized that he did it because he didn't want to have Chakotay there just yet. He didn't want to give up this moment, just yet.

It was so perfect—in the strangest way ever—and Daryl wanted to hold onto it.

He couldn't recall a time in his life when he'd ever felt so light. Their biggest worry was finding their way down safe, secure hallways where they could be rescued at any moment. They had nothing to fear. Carol was smiling and laughing until her chest was rising and falling quickly from the lack of breath.

And Daryl couldn't remember feeling as happy as he felt, at that moment, standing at a dead end in a hallway—just in front of a door that led somewhere he couldn't even imagine.

His heart pounded in his chest as he realized why he'd stopped her. Why he was holding her hand. He wanted this to last. He didn't want anything to take it away.

He meant to say something. He had to say something. She was looking at him—wide-eyed and expectant of something.

When he spoke, he was almost surprised to hear the words that his mouth formed.

"I don't wanna wake up from this," he said.

"What?" Carol asked.

"If it's a dream," Daryl said.

"It can't be a dream," Carol said. She didn't look at him like he was insane. She didn't look at him like she disagreed. The corner of her mouth curled upward in a half-smile and the expression around her eyes softened. "We'd have woken up by now if it were a dream. Maybe—we couldn't even talk about a dream if we were dreaming."

"Maybe we're dead," Daryl offered with a laugh.

"Then, if this is what being dead is," Carol said after a second, "I don't think I mind that either."

Daryl smiled to himself. His heart fluttered a little in his chest and his stomach tightened. There was something behind the words—unless he was just imagining it.

"Me neither," he said. He brushed his finger across her wrist as he dropped her hand—suddenly becoming aware that he was still holding it. "You ain't wearin' your bracelet no more."

Carol frowned.

"It was gone when I woke up," she said. She held up both hands and looked at her wrists like she was checking to see if the bracelet might have simply moved.

"Maybe that Kes woman has it," Daryl offered.

"If she did," Carol said, "she would have given it back. They probably threw it out. Didn't know what it was. It was just string to them."

Daryl nodded his head. The friendship bracelet had been something he'd made for her quickly. It was made from twine and was really nothing special to anyone's eye. She'd worn it, though, since he'd given it to her. He liked to see it on her wrist. He liked to see her touching it sometimes when she was sitting quietly or thinking something over. He liked that she'd kept it all this time.

And, now, he kind of liked that she was clearly sad that it was gone.

"Hey," he offered, "you get to spend your life on a boat now. A ship, at least."

She smiled a little and nodded her head. She gave him the expression she always did just before she decided to bust his balls for her entertainment.

"At least I have my best friend with me," she teased.

Daryl felt his face run warm.

"You do," he said.

He looked at her a moment. He studied her face. He felt the fluttering inside of him. He considered all the things that he could say. He wondered how she might react to any of them.

In the end, though, he simply reached his hand up and touched the metal communicator pinned to his shirt.

"Daryl to Chakotay," Daryl said.

"What can I help you with, Daryl?" Chakotay asked.

"We got turned around," Daryl said.

"Where are you located?" Chakotay asked.

"If I knew that," Daryl said, "then I reckon we could get back."

Chakotay laughed.

"Don't worry, there's a tracking device in your combadge. I'm on my way. Chakotay out."

"We'll be here," Daryl offered, but he was sure the man was already gone.

Carol was studying something on the wall she probably had not business toying with. The moment, too, from earlier was gone.

Daryl could at least dream, though, that it might be back.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**I'm so tickled that some of you are enjoying this! It's so much fun, and I have so much hope for all the things to come, so I'm thrilled that some of you are excited to go along with me. I was scared it would be too "crackfic" for everyone. LOL I'm glad some of you like the crossover as much as I do! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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Everybody at the table had tried to serve in her place, and Kathryn had to wave them all away. She waved Chakotay away, again, when he reached once more for the champagne bottle.

"I'm quite capable of pouring the champagne, Chakotay," Kathryn informed him.

He looked slightly embarrassed, smiled to himself, and looked down as he shifted his napkin in his lap again.

"I'm know you are, Captain," he offered. He looked back at her. "I just didn't think you needed to serve during your off-hours."

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"We're all on our off-hours," she said, filling the last of the flutes for herself before she returned the champagne to its bucket. She sat down in her seat.

The meal had gone well. Daryl had been particularly concerned with whether or not the food they were eating was real, but Kathryn had assured him it was "as real as she could make it," and he'd eaten it with a great deal of satisfaction and with no more questioning. They had kept the conversation light, and Kathryn had only gotten them to share the most basic information about their lives before they'd been captured.

Of the two of them, it was Carol who shared the most. Daryl mostly seemed concerned with clarifying a few details, helping Carol when she got stuck on some part of their narrative, and listening to her speak.

The quiet affection that the two people shared was practically palpable, though they weren't overt with their feelings.

It warmed Kathryn's heart just to see it.

She appreciated love. She loved it, really.

She'd been in love twice, herself, before she'd ever ended up stranded in the Delta Quadrant. She'd lost the first man she loved in a tragic accident. The second, Mark, she'd intended to marry even after she'd boarded Voyager for something that should have only taken her away from him for a few weeks. They'd been engaged. They wanted the same things in life—and they both believed that, together, they could have everything. She'd planned to marry him shortly after her return. The trip to the Badlands to subdue the Maquis was going to be her final away mission for a while. They wanted a large family and she was going to commit herself to having the first of their children as soon as possible. It wouldn't kill her to work quietly in Starfleet until the little one had come. Then, when her leave was up, Mark was going to take some time that he had saved to get the baby settled while she returned to work.

Nobody, of course, had planned for the Caretaker to fling them into the Delta Quadrant and leave them with seventy some odd years of travel between where they were and where they called home.

It was unlikely that anyone back home would know anything more than the fact that they'd disappeared, entirely, during their trip to the Badlands, and they'd never returned.

Mark would consider her dead. He would move on. He would buy the house he loved so much, marry a nice woman who deserved a good man, and he would build the family that he dreamed of having.

He had probably already done so. And Kathryn had already let him go. She had to—for herself as much as for anyone else.

Kathryn wished Mark nothing but the best, really. She would have been more heartbroken to go to sleep, at night, imagining him broken by her disappearance and assumed death. She would have hated to think that he gave up even a moment of potential happiness to linger too long on a memory and hope. For however as romantic the thought of meeting him again—maybe seventy some odd years in the future, if it had even been possible for them both to live so long—and finding he still loved her might be, she preferred to know he'd lived his life well and happily. She preferred to believe he had lived a life full of love.

She never would have denied him that in the Alpha Quadrant. She wouldn't deny him that in the Delta Quadrant.

Seeing Carol and Daryl across the table from her, she was happy that the Araulians, at least, had captured them together. She might be angry at the now extinct species for snatching them out of their worlds in such a rude way, but she was happy that they at least got enough right to grab them together. Seeing them now, she would have hated to have had the duty of telling one or the other that they'd left their partner behind for the rest of their lives.

The sight of them, sitting across from her, gave Kathryn a twinge of melancholy that she was good at swallowing down until she was alone. It brought up feelings that, from time to time, she was able to subdue for weeks, or even months.

She hated to give up, entirely, the life she'd dreamed of having.

She knew that love could come again—especially since love could take many shapes and forms—but she doubted that it could come again for her. She was a starship captain and, even though Starfleet had no official rules on such a situation as the one she was in, and though her duty may last for the rest of her life, she wasn't sure that her crew would support the idea that their captain could take a vacation from her role—it was her job, after all, to figure out how to get her crew home.

She didn't know if she'd ever be more—if she ever could be more—than a starship captain.

There were times when she saw something in Chakotay's eye. She thought she caught a glimmer—a quick glance of something. She saw a flicker of interest. A spark of hope. He lingered a little too long with his soft, brown eyes holding hers.

But she was probably imagining things. Chakotay was kind and supportive. He was a good first officer. He was dedicated. He was, also, undeniably strong and handsome. The truth was, she was simply projecting things because of her own loneliness. She was his captain and, like the rest, he would expect her to keep her eye on the job ahead of her—the duty she owed them all.

The duty she now owed, as well, to the two people who sat across the table from her.

"Y'all care if I smoke?" Daryl asked, drawing Kathryn back to the table and out of her daydream.

He'd asked for cigarettes and, though they weren't something that anyone onboard the ship enjoyed outside of the occasional one smoked on the holodeck, Chakotay had replicated him everything he'd need and pretended that it had come from storage until he calmed about the trustworthiness of the replicator.

"Go ahead," Kathryn said. "Whatever you like. The filters will clean the air for anyone who might protest."

"I'd go outside, but…" Daryl offered.

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"At this time, that might not be advisable," she said. "Shall I—propose a toast?"

"What are we toasting?" Daryl asked, smelling the champagne in his glass like he wasn't sure if he was going to be fond of the beverage. It occurred to Kathryn that she might have done better to ask her guests what they wanted to drink. She could always offer him something else, though, if it was clear that he wasn't enjoying the champagne.

"What about—new friends and new family aboard Voyager?" Kathryn offered.

Everyone tasted the champagne. Daryl didn't look disgusted by it, but Kathryn could tell by the way that he swallowed that his choice to drink the beverage was solely borne from the desire to take part in the social ritual.

"To new worlds, new people, and new adventures," Chakotay offered.

Kathryn raised her glass again, toasted with the others at the table, and tasted the champagne. She caught Chakotay's smile out the corner of her eye. He was watching her, as he had for much of the meal. He was, probably, looking to see how she would interact with the newcomers so that he could base his reaction to Carol and Daryl off of hers.

"I got one," Daryl offered. He cleared his throat. "We—uh—back on…" He stopped and laughed to himself. "Shit—sounds insane to say this. But back on Earth? We were talkin' about—you know—startin' over. Just—startin' over." Kathryn didn't miss the exchanged glances between Carol and Daryl. She didn't miss the blush that ran into Carol's cheeks or the fact that Daryl diverted his eyes for half a second, as if looking at Carol was too much to bear. Carol smiled to herself when she diverted her eyes, too. "To starting over."

Kathryn sipped her champagne, enjoying that she'd at least discovered a ritual in which the new arrivals were willing and happy to participate.

"To new beginnings," Kathryn said. "New lives."

"To old dreams," Carol offered.

"And new ones," Chakotay added.

"To new friends, and family," Kathryn said, swallowing down the sweet champagne that remained in her glass.

Kathryn smiled to herself as she pulled the bottle of champagne from the bucket, refreshed her own, and offered the bottle around. Even Daryl accepted a little more of the beverage. A few swallows of it clearly made it more palatable.

"I am terribly sorry about how this all came about," Kathryn said. "But—I would be lying if I said I was unhappy to have you here. I look forward to getting to know you both well."

"So, are we part of your spaceship military?" Daryl asked.

Kathryn laughed to herself. She reached to return what was left of the champagne to the bucket, but before she could raise herself from her seat to do so, Chakotay took the bottle from her and, half-leaning over her, gently placed it back among the melting ice.

"You can't be members of Starfleet," Kathryn said. "But you're absolutely members of my crew—if you want to be. I can't force you into that, either. After all, it wasn't your choice to be here. I would be happy for you to be members of my crew, though, if you want to be. If you're interested in doing something to contribute to the ship."

"What can we do?" Carol asked.

"That's really up to you," Kathryn said, shrugging her shoulders. "We have something for everyone, I think, aboard the ship. What do you think you'd be good at—or even interested in?"

"She mentioned to Neelix that she enjoyed cooking," Chakotay offered.

Carol smiled.

"I do like to cook," she said. "I was a housewife before…everything. I can cook and bake."

"And Neelix could use the help," Kathryn said.

"She's good at medical care, too," Daryl said. "First aid." Carol's cheeks blushed pink, but she looked pleased that he would point out her strengths in such a nonchalant way. She didn't deny her ability to perform first aid. Instead, she nodded her head gently to support his claim.

"You're certainly not limited to anything," Kathryn said. "You can explore the ship. Try different things. See what you like. If you'd like to work some in the mess hall and some in sickbay, you're welcome to try both."

"Everyone ends up doing a bit of double duty from time to time," Chakotay said. "That's what comes from having a small crew."

"If you're interested," Kathryn said, "tomorrow you could visit both places. See what you'd like to do. You have plenty of time to decide."

"The doctor would like to see them anyway," Chakotay said.

Kathryn hummed.

"What for?" Daryl asked.

"There's no reason to worry, Daryl," Kathryn assured him. "He keeps a careful profile of everyone's health. It makes it easier to diagnose things in the future and to keep things from becoming a problem. When you were seen before, you were asleep. He'd like to complete your history when you're awake and can participate." Daryl relaxed back into his chair with the explanation. "What about you?" Kathryn asked, further distracting him from any concern that may have replaced his concern with replicated items. "Where do you think we might see you seeking a job on Voyager?"

Daryl shrugged.

"I'm not really that good at anything," he said.

"You're good at everything!" Carol interjected, almost sounding offended. "He's good at everything."

"Not on a spaceship, or a starship, or whatever. We don't exactly need to hunt for our own food or build our own campsites here," Daryl said, addressing Carol.

"Daryl…you're good at…so much," Carol said. She looked at Kathryn. There was an odd sort of pleading in her eyes that made Kathryn wish that she could help her. "He's good at everything. That's the problem. Where to start. He's good with mechanical things. Building…tracking. Weapons."

Daryl was looking at Carol like he couldn't believe the things she was saying about him. Still, he looked pleased by her words.

"Tactical, perhaps," Kathryn said, glancing at Chakotay to try to judge what he was thinking. "Security."

"Or engineering," Chakotay offered. "Sure—there's a learning curve, but that's anywhere on the ship. How are you with electricity?"

Daryl shrugged.

"I tinker," Daryl said. "I've done some work here or there."

"Tomorrow you'll have a look around," Kathryn said. "You can spend a little time—like Carol—moving between stations. You're bound to find something that you enjoy."

"What if we can't find something?" Daryl asked. "What if—there just isn't any way we can contribute?"

Kathryn smiled at him.

"I'm not in the habit of believing that there's anybody who has nothing to offer," Kathryn said. "We may not know how you fit in yet, but I already know that you're both going to be an asset to the ship. In a few months? I'm sure we won't know how we ever made it this far without you."


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**This is my second chapter of the day, so if you haven't read the first one, please don't miss it! **

**I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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"We get to start over," Carol breathed out.

She was sitting on the side of the bed, braiding her hair. She was wearing pajamas—something she'd requested from the magical machine that seemed to be able to make something out of nothing. Kathryn had been more than happy to show her, again, how it worked. For her amusement, Carol had made Daryl matching pajamas. She'd been as happy as hell to bring them to him while he was brushing his teeth.

He changed into them, even though he'd never worn red plaid pajamas before—and even though he'd never thought about dressing so that he matched anyone.

They amused Carol, and that was enough. Besides, they were more comfortable than he even admitted to her that they were.

The way she said the words about a new start made them sound like they were the most beautiful words in the whole of the English language.

"We do," he said. "We can. If that's what you want."

"I don't think I've ever wanted anything more in my entire life," Carol said. She sighed. It was a deep sigh, but it didn't necessarily sound like a sad sigh. It didn't sound like the kinds of sighs he'd heard from her when they'd been camping together—the sighs that made it feel like there were a thousand miles between them and he had no way of figuring out how to cross the distance to reach her, if she even wanted to be reached. This sigh was lighter. "I'm so tired, Daryl."

"We're goin' to bed," Daryl offered. "Just as soon as you get done doin' your hair."

He lit a cigarette. He was sitting on his side of the bed. The only thing they had left to do was to command the computer to turn off their lights.

"I don't mean I'm sleepy," Carol said. "I mean—I'm tired. I've been tired for so long. I haven't slept, without worry, since the CDC. And—really, I didn't sleep without worry before then."

"I get it," Daryl offered. The CDC had been their first spot of hope after the world had turned and the dead had begun to roam. It had been the first place where they'd believed they could be safe. Their safety there had been so short-lived, though, and the surprise that it wasn't safe at all had been such a hard blow, that they'd, perhaps, never truly trusted a place after that. "I don't think Kathryn's gonna blow us up, though. I mean, if she was, she'da just been like do whatever the hell you want around here. She wouldn't have bothered with tryin' to figure out what kinda jobs we might want."

Carol smiled to herself.

"I like her," Carol said. "She's—sweet."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I don't think you're supposed to call the captain 'sweet,'" Daryl offered. "She's like the captain of a whole military spaceship."

"So, she can't be sweet?" Carol asked.

"I guess she can be," Daryl ceded. "You really gonna bake cookies and shit with that thing tomorrow?"

Carol laughed to herself.

"That thing?" She asked.

"That—thing—I don't remember what he was called," Daryl said. "Neelix?"

"He was a Talaxian," Carol said. "And Kes is an Ocampan. It might be a good idea to remember these things. It shows respect. For their cultures or whatever."

"You gonna bake cookies with the Talaxian all day long?" Daryl asked.

Carol hummed.

"And I'm going to cook with him. And help out in sickbay. And Kathryn said that I could come to the bridge and her—her office or whatever. And I'm going to see if I might like to be some kind of secretary that runs errands and does odd jobs throughout the ship."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You gonna start wearin' floral sweaters again?" Daryl asked, remembering some of Carol's previous incarnations. Each place they'd gone, it seemed, and each era of their journey had seen her searching for something. Each step of the way, she'd tried on different proverbial shirts until she'd practically been through a closet full of different versions of herself. "Or—lookin' for a king to recite Shakespeare to you?" Carol frowned at him. Immediately he was sorry, and he said as much. "I'm sorry. It's just—you've done this before."

"I haven't," Carol said.

"You were Betty fuckin' Crocker in Alexandria," Daryl said. "Get 'em to trust us, but don't trust them. You were the knife lady at the prison. You've been—the cook, and the washer woman. You—did whatever the hell it was you was doin' with Tobin an' you married good King Wenceslas. Then you was a pirate—or a fisherwoman or whatever."

Carol frowned.

"And then I ran away with you," Carol said. She raised her eyebrows at him. "My best friend, right? I ran away with you to—live. For once. To really live. To put it all behind me. To find a new life. To live my truth."

"I guess my point is—is bakin' cookies with the Talaxian your truth?" Daryl asked. "You're complicated, Carol. But—you could do weapons or tactical just as easy as I could. You didn't tell Kathryn your aim's better'n mine."

"I didn't tell her that I've murdered more people than I can count, either," Carol said.

Daryl's stomach churned a little.

"You had reasons," Daryl said. They'd all had their reasons. The world they'd known had been cruel—for Daryl and Carol, really, it had been harder for longer than it had been for others.

"But it doesn't matter," Carol said. "You didn't tell her everything about your past. I didn't tell her everything about mine."

"Because you wanna start over?" He asked. Carol nodded. She looked sad and, suddenly, he wished he'd never brought it up. He wished he'd left her alone—just as fucking happy as she had been when she'd brought him the pajamas and she was ready to go to bed to dream about the life she wanted. Daryl snubbed out his cigarette and got up. He walked over to where she was, sat down beside her, and pulled her into a hug. "Hey—it's OK. I'm sorry. We can do that. We can start over."

Carol laughed quietly and very insincerely.

"Not if you keep reminding me of the past," she offered.

"I won't," Daryl said, shaking his head. "I won't. None of it. Nothin' you don't wanna talk about. Just like I promised when we left for New Mexico. Except—it's even better now. We'll leave it all behind—all there on Earth. Everything you wanna leave there."

Carol's smile slowly returned.

"I don't want to leave it all," Carol said. "Sophia…Henry," she said.

"Just the bad parts, then," Daryl said. "The parts you don't wanna keep."

"What about you?" Carol asked. "You want to—leave your bad behind?"

Daryl nodded at her.

"Already have," he assured her. "You don't throw it in my face. Never. And I swear—I ain't gonna throw it in yours no more. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did."

"What if you're right?" Carol asked. "What if—I don't even know who I really am anymore? What if—I never really got to know?"

Daryl's stomach ached with her words. His chest ached too.

"You're you," Daryl said. "That's all the hell that matters. Everything that makes you who you are—that's who you are." He laughed to himself. "And if who you are is someone who bakes cookies with Neelix all day long, then that's who the hell you should be." He hugged her again. "We get to start over. We get to decide who the hell we are now."

Carol smiled at him when he pulled out of the hug and he used his thumb to brush away the stray tear that trailed down her cheek.

"We get to start over," she said, sounding a little more like she had before Daryl had opened his mouth and stuck his foot halfway down his throat. He nodded at her. He wanted her to be able to start over and to leave behind every fucked-up thing he knew had ever happened in her life. He wanted her to have a fresh start. And, honestly, he was glad that he was there to see it happen.

He hadn't always been there before—not in the way he wanted to be.

Maybe, this time, things would be different, if he could simply find the strength inside himself to make them different. If he could find the ability to say what he needed to say and to do what he needed to do.

Maybe he could be part of her new life—without ever becoming one of her past regrets.

But, tonight, he couldn't steel his nerves up to take the leap. So, he simply rubbed her back, offering her a little more comfort for the sorrow his insensitivity had dragged up inside her, and did his best to put her to bed.

"And tonight," he said, "we get to sleep like we ain't slept in ages. Knowin' tomorrow? We start somethin' we never even imagined before."

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"Come in," Kathryn called. Chakotay immediately stepped into her ready room. She smiled at him, mostly because of the way he was smiling at her. He stopped directly in front of her desk and clasped his hands casually behind his back.

"Good morning, Captain," Chakotay said.

"Good morning, Commander," Kathryn said. "You look like you've got something on your mind."

"I was just reading my duty list," Chakotay said. "I see that I'm playing host again today?"

"There's something on long range sensors," Kathryn said. "Harry's estimating it's easily seven days from here at our current speed. Until then? There are clear skies. This is the perfect time to get Carol and Daryl settled before I'm really going to want you helping me make decisions about our next steps. In the meantime, your services aren't really required on the bridge. Any junior officer can fill in on a quiet bridge, and they'll be happy for the time."

"Any junior officer can lead Carol and Daryl around," Chakotay said.

Kathryn smiled at him.

"Are you feeling like the assignment is beneath you?" Kathryn asked, standing up. She walked around her desk. "I chose you because I thought you'd be best for the job."

"And why is that, Captain?" Chakotay asked.

"Because you're steady," Kathryn said. "And calm when you need to be—and this calls for calm. And, because Daryl needs to go to engineering."

Chakotay laughed to himself. He nodded his head, clearly catching on to everything she wasn't saying.

"B'Elanna," he said.

"B'Elanna," Kathryn agreed. "I'll call down there myself. I'll talk with her before you get there, but I think it might be a good idea to have you there to prepare Daryl while I prepare B'Elanna."

"And to soothe over any faux pas that Daryl might unwillingly commit," Chakotay offered. Kathryn smiled at him. She nodded her head.

"Will you handle it for me?" She asked.

"It is in my duty roster," Chakotay said.

"I can reassign you if you really feel strongly about it," Kathryn ceded.

"No," Chakotay said. "I didn't think about the fact that Daryl would be going to engineering. Perhaps you are right—maybe I'm the best person for that job."

Thank you," Kathryn said, closing the distance between them and squeezing Chakotay's arm with some affection. "Now—remember—help the make sure they can remember where their quarters are located so they can come and go some as they please. It may be best to give them a PADD with a map. The doctor's expecting them for physicals, so you'll need to take them both to be cleared by him before you take them anywhere else. Then you can take them to the mess hall. Neelix is expecting Carol today, so you can leave her there after breakfast. I'll talk to B'Elanna in the meantime, so you can take Daryl to engineering after breakfast."

"You're not concerned with me leaving Carol alone?" Chakotay asked, a little hint of humor to his words. Kathryn laughed to herself.

"I get the feeling that Carol can take care of herself, Commander," Kathryn offered. "Besides that, I think that dealing with Mr. Neelix will be easier for Carol than Daryl might find dealing with B'Elanna. I'm concerned that the two will at least need a formal introduction."

"Very well," Chakotay said. "I'll handle it." He stood there a moment, smiling at Kathryn in a very particular way that he had. She smiled to herself in response to his expression.

"What?" She asked. He shook his head.

"Nothing, Captain," he assured her. "I was just thinking—you remind me of a new mother. Worried about her young leaving the nest for the first time."

"They're my responsibility, Chakotay," Kathryn said. "Just like everyone on this ship. The difference is, they never asked to be here. They never asked to have to learn about everything and to deal with all this new information."

Chakotay reached a hand out and affectionately squeezed Kathryn's shoulder. She accepted and welcomed the gesture.

"I understand, Captain," Chakotay said. "And I promise that I'll make sure that everything goes as smoothly as possible as they integrate into their new positions for the day. And, tomorrow, if they should decide to change duty stations again, I'll make sure they're settled in there."

Kathryn smiled at him.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "You know I depend on you for—everything, really."

Chakotay smiled at her.

"I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy their company," Chakotay said. "And the adventure. I'll give Daryl and Carol a lesson in Klingons this morning, if you'll give B'Elanna a lesson in Dixons."

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"Done," she said. "Just remember to call for security if you need it."

Chakotay laughed to himself at her teasing. He gave her an informal nod, and she mirrored the gesture as the only dismissal required for such a loosely given order. He left her ready room to go collect the Dixons, and Kathryn sat down at her computer to finish the duty rosters she was looking over and to contact B'Elanna about a possible new trainee in engineering.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**We'll have a very short time jump coming up (with anything important filled in) so we can keep moving forward! You can get an idea, though, about where J/C and Caryl are so far (at least, I hope you can), and you can probably see how our new unofficial crewmembers of Voyager will be settling in. **

**Now, I think, it's time to start seeing life "progressing" on Voyager. (Just a reminder to those who watch Voyager, I'll be playing real fast and loose with the show progression/episodes/etc. I'm using some things, but most of this is just my imagination.)**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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Chakotay worried that Daryl might be entirely exhausted before his day had officially begun. The physicals had consisted mostly of some questions and some relatively non-invasive medical treatment. Still, Daryl had been clearly torn between his desire to be something of a gentleman with a "ladies first" attitude, and his desire to inspect and approve everything before the EMH even got close to Carol. In the end, Daryl had gone first, and it was only once he was satisfied that nothing heinous would occur that Carol took her turn with the doctor.

Chakotay could understand his concerns, though.

Chakotay had never been in love—at least not _before._

He had entertained women in life, of course. He'd had a few passing and short-lived romances. He'd never been in love, though. Not before.

Mostly he'd lived with his anger. He'd lived with his disgust at the cruelty and injustice in the world. He'd courted the idea of revenge for everything he ever thought needed to be avenged.

It was difficult to love when everything inside you was churning with an anger that was just barely kept under control.

All that had changed the day a viewscreen had brought Kathryn Janeway into his life. She represented much of what had made him angry, really, and he should have hated her, perhaps. The first few days they'd known each other, he'd told himself that his lack of hatred toward her was borne of the fact that they were trapped together and needed to make the best of a bad situation. He told himself that his respect for her was borne from the fact that she was striving to be fair to all of them—even though the Maquis were technically her prisoners. He'd done his best to ignore the electricity that crackled through his body any time she drew near to him.

Now he no longer lied to himself. There was no need to tell himself make believe stories about his feelings. He was very much in touch with himself—and his spirit guides—and his feelings for Kathryn Janeway couldn't remain hidden too long—at least not from himself.

She'd taken him into her confidence fairly soon after they'd met. She'd trusted him as a friend and first officer. She'd let, for one evening, her guard down long enough to very briefly to admit that she was as human as everyone else aboard the ship. Though she kept the proverbial stiff upper lip for the good of everyone aboard Voyager, she had feelings beneath the surface that she tried to keep carefully concealed. Chakotay understood, better than most, about concealing feelings—though he had found a calm in Kathryn Janeway's presence that he had rarely known in his life before seeing her. She'd lamented, to him and in private, the loss of a life that she'd loved and a future that she'd dreamed of—even counted on. She had been sparse in her details, but she'd let him in on enough to make it clear that he'd been privy, if only for a moment, to some of the deeper parts of the woman.

She had accepted his comfort, though she hadn't asked for it. The only thing she'd asked for was that he call her Kathryn. Just that once. Just for a moment. Just while they were alone and she was needing to peel back the bandages and nurse the wounds she'd only nursed in private—just while she was allowing him to be an audience to her suffering. She had wanted the comfort of hearing her name said with some measure of affection.

And it had tasted so sweet on Chakotay's tongue that nothing else had satisfied his cravings for three days afterwards. He'd said her name, to himself and in private, in his quarters many times since. Only once or twice, only when he was absolutely sure she needed it, and only when they were entirely without witnesses, he allowed himself to say her name to her face.

She would never know that he said it alone.

She would never know that he dreamed of saying it with the same casual comfort that Daryl used to say Carol's name every chance he got.

Chakotay understood Daryl's need to protect Carol from anything that might prove dangerous—even though, as Kathryn had said, Carol seemed confident in her surroundings and more than capable of taking care of herself, at least as much as anyone else was—because he felt the same.

Kathryn Janeway didn't need Chakotay's protection. She didn't need anyone's protection. She certainly didn't require the chivalrous attitude of a man willing to die for her.

But Chakotay would have died for her, without regret and without hesitation.

So, he understood Daryl's need to make sure that nothing was threatening Carol. He also understood the warning in Daryl's eyes as he observed what was taking place around him.

Chakotay's gut told him that Daryl knew what it was like, too, to live with an anger that had spent most of his life boiling just beneath his surface and, perhaps, he knew what it was like to find the one thing that somehow calmed that boiling.

It made Chakotay hopeful, too, that Daryl would eventually come to understand the Chief Engineer he'd be working with after breakfast.

"So, these Klingons fight with everyone?" Carol asked, chewing through her breakfast casserole with more contentment than Daryl showed over the meal.

"Yes and no," Chakotay said. "They're a warring species and, historically, they were enemies of the Federation. There's a treaty between the Klingons and the Federation now. Of course, there are still certain Klingons that are problematic in the Alpha Quadrant. As a species, they're still a warrior species. As such, they tend to be…" He hesitated to find something that would make clear what he was trying to say without painting Klingons in a terribly unflattering light. "Hot-headed," he offered finally.

Carol laughed. He only had to look at her for her to sense his question. She shrugged.

"Being hot-headed is hardly some kind of horrible crime," Carol said. "Unless things have really changed a lot in the past—three hundred years or whatever."

"A lot has changed," Chakotay offered. "I don't expect you to understand all that's taken place in the years since the Millennium Plague. Suffice it to say, simply, that the world that you knew desperately sought peace and tranquility in the wake of so much violence and destruction. The new leaders wanted a world where their children and grandchildren would never need to know the amount of death and destruction that they'd known."

"And the whole world sang some Kum-bah-yah shit together?" Daryl asked. He'd suddenly found a certain zeal for his breakfast casserole, and he spoke around a mouthful of it. Chakotay forced himself to hold his features steady and not to offer a bit of disgust at his lack of table manners.

Daryl was also enjoying his coffee—as long as Neelix didn't tell him that the pot it had been poured from was replicated.

Chakotay laughed at the sincerity of the question, though, because he understood all the feeling that was disguised behind it.

"Not at all," Chakotay offered. "There's been nothing but conflicts and wars since your time. We continue to want peace and tranquility, but…"

"But that ain't who the hell we are as humans," Daryl offered.

"Or as many other species," Chakotay said. "It would seem. In fact, humans are some of the more docile species we've encountered. Many others cause a great deal more conflict than humans do—at least these days."

"Like these Klingons?" Carol asked.

"Like the Klingons have," Chakotay said. "Some people still have a very negative reaction to Klingons—even those who want peace. And they can be somewhat prejudiced against the species. It makes it difficult for Klingons who are seeking to be seen as more than a stereotype, I supposed."

"Your engineer person…" Daryl said.

Chakotay didn't know if it was a question or the lost beginning to a statement. It didn't matter. Daryl was already eating again, and he showed no interest in returning to his words.

"B'Elanna is half-human and half-Klingon," Chakotay said. "And, like most individuals, she'd prefer not to be judged by that."

Daryl hummed.

"Don't wanna be judged by where the hell you come from," he said with a laugh. He shrugged his shoulders. "Guess not too damn much has changed in a few hundred years after all."

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"Would you like to stop staring sometime soon?" B'Elanna asked.

She was showing a good bit of restraint—likely because Kathryn had already asked her to do so, and B'Elanna liked Kathryn a great deal more than she'd originally suspected she might and, therefore, wanted to make her happy. Still, it was clear that she was not entirely thrilled with everything she'd been asked to do.

"Sorry," Daryl said. He seemed to genuinely mean the apology, as well, but his eyes only flicked away from B'Elanna a moment before they returned to settle on her again.

Chakotay cleared his throat loudly to draw the attention of the half-Klingon that had served under him for years and had been, as well, someone he considered a close friend.

"We have to remember that Daryl is from a pre-Warp time," Chakotay said.

"So I've been reminded three times this morning," B'Elanna said with as much feigned lightness as she could muster.

"He's never heard of a Klingon until breakfast," Chakotay offered. "Your mother's whole species is new to him."

B'Elanna gritted her teeth and offered Chakotay a smile that he knew to be entirely artificial.

"And if he doesn't stop staring at me," B'Elanna said, "he's going to have a very intimate understanding of Klingons."

Chakotay lowered his brows at her in warning. She understood. He wanted her to behave. Kathryn wanted her to behave. If she reacted violently—especially when she wasn't being threatened and was hardly being inconvenienced—she would absolutely be marched to Kathryn's ready room for a long conversation, and a suitable dressing down, over her behavior.

She didn't want that.

Her features softened and she growled.

Daryl laughed.

In all his life, Chakotay had never known anyone so utterly un-bothered by Klingons. Maybe it was because he knew nothing of the species, but Daryl seemed intrigued by B'Elanna and not at all threatened by her.

"What the hell you so damned irritable for?" Daryl asked. "I haven't done a fucking thing to you."

"You're staring at me!" B'Elanna said loudly.

Chakotay glanced around. The engineering crew—B'Elanna's crew—was hard at work. If they weren't hard at work, they were at least all wise enough to pretend to be temporarily deaf. They were removed from the heart of things, since Chakotay had drawn B'Elanna to the side for introductions, but they weren't far enough removed for him to believe that nobody going on about their tasks could hear what was taking place.

"I'm sorry," Daryl offered, again, sincerely. "It's just you got the…" He gestured to his own forehead.

"Is he serious?" B'Elanna asked, directing her question toward Chakotay.

"Hey—you might be pissed 'cause I'm lookin' at your face," Daryl said, "but I could be pissed that you won't even talk to me like I'm a human being. So, don't act like you the only damned one around here that's got any business bein' pissed off!"

The amount of restraint B'Elanna showed was a tribute to her dedication to having a good report with her captain. Every single muscle in her body visibly tensed, though, and Chakotay was certain that she was having visions of finding out if she was capable of hurling the man across engineering.

"OK—I'll say it directly to you," she said, after composing herself for a moment. "Stop staring at my ridges."

"If I can ask one question—I swear I won't stare no more," Daryl offered.

B'Elanna looked at Chakotay and Chakotay shrugged.

"The only way we grow in understanding is through asking questions," he offered.

B'Elanna relaxed a little. She relaxed a little more as she seemed to consider it. Maybe she was realizing that Daryl was, in fact, not attempting to insult her in any way. He'd neither said nor done a single thing that could even be considered insulting.

"What do you want to know?" B'Elanna asked, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

Daryl visibly relaxed and his stare softened to simply appear like he was trying to hold B'Elanna's eyes. He nodded his head gently.

"Is it bone or cartilage?" He asked.

B'Elanna seemed genuinely taken aback. She stared at him, a moment, and then dropped her arms.

Chakotay bit the inside of his mouth to keep from showing any reaction at all.

B'Elanna hadn't been asked a lot of genuine questions in her life. Maybe she only needed something like that to be reminded that Daryl had no prejudices against her. His only question was one of curiosity and an attempt to simply know more.

B'Elanna relaxed, though it was clear she was still a bit defensive. She stammered, a second, before she confidently responded to the question.

"It's bone," she said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"That's pretty badass," he offered.

The slightest hint of a smile flickered across B'Elanna's lips. She wouldn't let it stay there, though, and it was gone before it had hardly fully blossomed.

"What makes you think you belong in engineering?" B'Elanna asked. "Do you even know what a warp core is? Impulse engines?"

Daryl shrugged.

"Not exactly," Daryl said. "But I've done a fair amount of tinkering with different engines before. And I learn quick."

B'Elanna looked at Chakotay and raised her eyebrows.

"I'm supposed to use someone who's tinkered with engines three hundred years ago and learns 'quick'?" B'Elanna asked.

Daryl bristled slightly at her tone.

"Hey," he said. "You don't judge me for grammar and shit—for who I am and where I come from—and I won't judge you for what I know about your species? Deal?"

Chakotay smiled to himself.

"I think everything's going to work out fine here," he said. "But—if you need me, just give me a call. Either one of you. Daryl knows how to work his combadge."

Chakotay laughed to himself as he walked away to check on other things around the ship and to give Daryl and B'Elanna the chance to get to know one another and negotiate their differences without an audience.

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**AN: Just a word to everyone, but this isn't going to be super slow-burn for anyone. I'm more interested in the after effects than the slow burn. I hope that I've at least made it a little clear that there's been some burning before the story started.**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think!**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Here we go, another chapter here. If you missed the last chapter that was recently published (since I'm not sure if all of you saw it, please make sure you read it!)**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl woke up before the harsh whistle of the alarm that would sound and tell them it was time to dress to go to work.

He woke sweating like he had a fever. He woke suddenly, sharply, and almost in unexpected and inexplicable pain.

It must have been a dream. He couldn't remember it, but it must have been one hell of a dream. His dick was so hard that he was uncomfortable in a way that he hadn't been since he was in his early teen years and the damned thing had first taken on a life of its own.

"Jesus," he hissed into the darkness over the throbbing need to fuck.

His mouth was dry and he couldn't swallow. His mind didn't feel like it was running entirely normally. He felt like he was still asleep except for one simple nugget of knowledge that was rolling around in his brain. He wanted to fuck more than he'd wanted anything in his whole, sorry life before.

He wanted to fuck more than he'd wanted food and water when they'd had neither on the road and he'd been sure they'd all die of starvation or thirst.

He couldn't very well roll toward Carol—who, right now, was sleeping next to him in the bed and was totally unaware that he would even have a dream like that about her, and he was certain it had to have been about her—and tell her that he was in what he was pretty sure was some kind of dire, and possibly fatal, condition.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself. Instead of rolling toward Carol, he rolled toward the side of the bed. He got up and went to the bathroom, gritting his teeth against the unusual sensitivity that he felt with every single movement that he made. He closed the bathroom door. "Computer—fuckin' lights," he growled. When the computer beeped at him, but didn't turn on the lights, he sighed. "Computer, lights, please!"

When the lights came on, Daryl looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked like a mess. He was sweaty. The dream had really gotten to him. He turned the sink on. Despite the discomfort of his ridiculously hard dick, the parched feeling in his mouth needed to be attended to before he could fix any of his other problems. With his hand, he scooped water into his mouth. He felt like he drank steadily for half an hour. The water tasted better than any water had ever tasted before. It tasted sweeter. It tasted fresher. It tasted like water directly from heaven or something equally ridiculous.

It was delicious and Daryl was so thirsty that his interest in relieving his dick took a back seat to his interest in drinking as much water as his gut would allow.

When he was so full of water that he was sure he could hear himself slosh, he commanded to the computer that it turn on the shower. He stripped out of his pajamas and put them to the side. He kicked off his underwear. He stepped into the shower and he took matters into his own hands—literally.

With his head against the side of their shower and the water beating down on him, Daryl concentrated on relieving himself. He closed his eyes. He told himself that it was OK to indulge in whatever fantasies got him through. Admittedly, he'd been doing that for years.

He imagined that Carol had come to the shower with him. He imagined that, instead of bracing himself against the shower wall and holding himself in his hand, he was bracing himself against the shower wall as he took care to fulfill every need she'd had since the last time he'd imagined doing just such a thing. In his masturbatory fantasies, he was always lucky that she liked and needed just what he liked and needed. Wrapped around him—in place of his hand—she found complete satisfaction. His brain, even, had stored up almost every sound of approval and pleasure that he'd ever heard from her make, to use those sounds for just such an endeavor.

He came so hard that he bit into his own arm to keep from being loud enough that the real Carol would become aware of what was going on.

After he came, there was an emptiness in his belly that not even all the water he'd drank could fill. It was an emptiness he was familiar with. He doubted if anything, really, could fill it—at least, he doubted if anything he could actually have would be able to fill it.

He showered off. He took his time washing with the sweet-smelling soap that Carol liked so much because, now, it was beginning to remind him of her. After a few days on the ship, as they both settled into thinking that this was truly going to be their home, the smell of the soap was starting to become comfortable and familiar. It was starting to make him feel surrounded by her as he moved through his day catching whiffs of it.

The whistle still hadn't sounded for them to start getting ready for their work shift, but Daryl dried off after his shower and decided to go to the mess hall anyway. He could use a smoke. He could use breakfast. And he could use the distraction that the goofy-ass Talaxian was a master at offering anyone who might need such a thing.

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Kathryn crossed her legs and immediately uncrossed them when the surge of electricity reminded her of her unusual sensitivity of the day. She looked around the bridge at everyone who was already starting to settle into their roles since the change of shifts.

She almost wondered if anyone could, somehow, read her mind. If they would have any way of knowing what she was thinking or feeling.

It was a ridiculous thought, but her mind seemed to be buzzing with ridiculous thoughts this morning. She focused her eyes on her PADD, but her attention was elsewhere. She was feeling unusually distracted. She was feeling hot. Feverish almost.

Suddenly she was aware of how restrictive her uniform felt and she tugged at the collar as discreetly as possible. She was sweating, and it made her regret the hot cup of coffee that she'd called breakfast this morning. She should have had iced coffee with the way she was feeling.

With a flick of her wrist, she pulled up the ship's report and scanned it quickly to see if environmental controls were somehow malfunctioning. The temperature on the ship did not feel like it was correct. Unless her PADD was also malfunctioning, though, the temperature was correct and environmental controls were responding as normal.

No matter what the PADD said, it was hot, and Kathryn was uncomfortably aware of the heat radiating out from her own body and getting trapped in the fabric of her uniform. She'd seldom thought about how little the fabric breathed but, at the moment, it seemed like a grand design flaw on the part of Starfleet.

She changed her screen to bring up the reports she was supposed to be reading from the last shift. She gritted her teeth for a split second at the sharp pain that jolted through her hand and she swallowed back the desire to laugh at herself that bubbled up in her chest and throat. She'd overdone it.

She'd woken up that morning desperately in need of touch.

That's how she'd felt when she'd first opened her eyes. She needed to be touched. She needed long-term touch. Steady touch. She needed more than the passing pat on the shoulder that she might get from Chakotay—because he was the only one that often touched her at all, since so many seemed to regard her as, literally, untouchable.

Chakotay.

Even a fleeting thought of him and her mind latched onto him, hard.

It had latched onto him, too, when she'd woken with the painful desperation to be touched. Held. To feel the friction of skin against her own. Namely, she'd desired to feel the friction of his skin against her own.

She'd very nearly cried into her pillow over her want for something so basic. She hadn't felt that kind of tantrum-like urge to cry and scream about her unhappiness since she'd been very small and her father had promised to be at her tennis match, but hadn't shown up because Starfleet had demanded his time instead.

Kathryn Janeway had only avoided crying into her pillow because she'd laughed at herself for acting like a brat over—over what? Over waking up and realizing that nobody had touched her in a long time and, in some overwhelming hour of need, her bed was empty—and was likely to remain so for the rest of her life.

There was nothing she could do about it, because it would be improper for her to proposition anyone. It would be an abuse of power. Even voicing her interest could be seen as duress.

She didn't want anyone who was there out of a since of duty or obligation—not even Chakotay. Not even if her dreams were haunted by him, and her body ached to know his touch.

She wouldn't want to ask, or even to suggest, because she'd forever feel that his actions weren't genuine. They weren't sincere.

And the crew would, very likely, disapprove. She was their captain. Her only concerns should be their safety and happiness. Getting them home. She shouldn't lie in her bed and wish for companionship and affection.

So, in the absence of anyone else who could touch her, she'd touched herself. She'd indulged her fantasies and pleasured herself, perhaps, a little too thoroughly.

Now, she felt as if she needed to slip down to sickbay to ask the doctor to check her for a fever—since she was sure that was what was making her slightly dizzy and causing her to sweat—and something inside her bubbled up with the humorous thought that she should ask him for something to treat the wrist and fingers that she almost felt sure were sprained.

She could tell him it was an old tennis injury. He didn't need to know the truth. She doubted he'd have anything, after all, in a hypospray that could take away any and all of her baser human needs and desires.

"Neelix to Captain Janeway."

Kathryn's combadge howled at her and drew her out of her daydream. She was glad for it, even though her face grew warm at the realization that she'd been so focused on what she'd been thinking that she didn't even know how long she'd been sitting there not really paying attention to what was going on around her.

There was an anomaly near the ship—something on their radar that they were going to explore—but it looked like a cloud or a nebula. It didn't appear to be anything to worry about and, until they got closer, there was nothing she could really do about it anyway.

"Go ahead, Mr. Neelix," Kathryn said.

"We could use a hand in the mess hall, Captain," Neelix said. "Namely—I could use a hand. If—you've got one to spare, that is."

"What kind of hand, Mr. Neelix?" Kathryn asked, stifling her humor at the Talaxian's stammering. "What's wrong?"

"Well, it's not exactly wrong, Captain, per se…it's just that…"

"Spit it out, Mr. Neelix," Kathryn said. "We haven't got all day."

"Yes, Captain," Neelix responded. "It's just that certain crew members are being…well, they're being openly affectionate, Captain. And I've asked them to stop, but…they seem to be doing the opposite of stopping and, really, it's beginning to make everyone too uncomfortable to enjoy the breakfast casserole that I prepared with Brevalian root vegetables from our airponics bay."

"I'm sending someone now. Janeway out."

Kathryn had no idea what had come over whatever crew members were in question. Though she could understand the driving force, perhaps, behind their actions—especially given her own current feelings—she could not condone strong public displays of affection or indiscretion.

"Lieutenant Tuvok?" Kathryn requested, turning around to see the Vulcan who was already passing off his station to an ensign.

"I will take a small team, Captain," Tuvok offered.

"Just—send them to quarters and bring me the report," Kathryn said. "I'll call them to my ready room."

"Aye, Captain," Tuvok responded.

Kathryn was just about to touch her combadge and scold her first officer for his tardiness—since he still hadn't shown up for his shift—when Chakotay stepped through the doors as Tuvok walked out of them.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Captain," Chakotay offered, quickly walking around to take his seat and bring up his screen.

"I presume you have a good excuse?" Kathryn asked.

"Fraternization in the turbolift," Chakotay said. He somewhat blushed and tried to hold back a smile that still made his dimples prominent. "I feel like I'm downplaying it by calling it that. Indiscretion. I stopped the crew members to have a talk with them. I told them that we wouldn't tolerate such behavior."

Kathryn laughed to herself and Chakotay raised his eyebrows at her in question. He already looked amused, even though he couldn't be sure of what she found humorous.

"Mr. Neelix just called for Tuvok," Kathryn said. "It seems there's some indiscretion in the mess hall, as well."

"Maybe it's something in the water," Chakotay offered.

Kathryn's combadge chirped again.

"The doctor to Captain Janeway. Your presence is requested in sickbay, Captain."

"What's going on?" Kathryn asked.

"I'd rather not say," the doctor said. "But I'm requesting that you not put off your arrival for too long, Captain."

Kathryn made a face at Chakotay.

"You might need some backup," he offered quietly.

Kathryn sighed. She had no idea what she might be walking into.

"I'm on my way," she said. "Janeway out." Even as she got to her feet, Chakotay was getting to his. "Mr. Kim, you have the bridge. Tom? Let me know if anything new arises surrounding that anomaly."

She heard Tom's happy "yes ma'am" as she left the bridge with Chakotay practically following on her heels.


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here!**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"Where are we going?" Carol asked.

"The holodeck," Kathryn said nonchalantly.

Kathryn was on a break or something. Carol assumed that captains could take breaks when they needed them since, from what she could tell, Kathryn didn't keep a very regular schedule otherwise. She seemed to forego sleep often, and lived off coffee that she picked up throughout the day in the mess hall along with the occasional sweet treat that Neelix produced.

Carol often brought her trays to her ready room to try to force her to consume an actual meal. She seemed to always have something to read about or consider.

Carol also assumed that nobody ever told the captain "no," especially not when she pulled them off of duty in the mess hall, offered them an outfit, and then followed them back to their quarters to wait for them to change.

Carol didn't mind the athletic-wear very much. It wasn't exactly revealing, but it was a bit tighter than what she'd normally wear, especially given that it was made with a great deal more spandex than Carol would have ever considered acceptable. Kathryn's outfit wasn't much different, however, so she assumed this was simply the same as leotards and ankle-warmers had once been—their lot in life for hitting the gym.

Kathryn proclaimed that she'd just come from sickbay—though she hadn't elaborated on that—and she needed to blow off some steam. Carol just assumed, given the outfit, that she would be learning about aerobics four hundred years in the future.

They weren't going to the gym, though. It appeared they were going to the holodecks.

"Y'all have mentioned them before," Carol said, "but what exactly are the holodecks?"

"Simulation areas," Kathryn responded. Carol nearly had to jog to keep up with the woman, who seemed to be running on more energy than usual, despite the fact that her face would have suggested she was already tired from the events of the morning. "We have the technology to create programs that run within the holodecks. You can practically be transported to another world."

Carol realized she couldn't really understand or connect to what Kathryn was saying. There was a great deal on the ship that simply felt outside of her comprehension. Instead of understanding it, really, she was focusing on simply accepting it.

She stopped with Kathryn when the woman stopped at a control panel.

"So, what are we—are we working out? What are we doing?" Carol asked.

"Target practice," Kathryn said. "As a game. Because—I need to blow of a little steam, and you need to eventually learn how to use a phaser." She touched the control panel. "Computer—load Janeway Velocity program Beta Four." Kathryn smiled at Carol. "We'll start easy. Let you work your way up."

Carol didn't have time to respond. She didn't know how to respond, really. She simply followed Kathryn into the room when the doors opened in front of them.

They stepped into a room that might have been a storage area at a Costco for all Carol knew. From a rack of things, Kathryn took a phaser. She passed one over to Carol.

Carol had seen the weapons on the belts of various people on the ship, but she hadn't actually held one before. It was much lighter than she thought it would be, and it was easy to hold. Kathryn also took a disc that she activated in some way and practically sat in the air. It hovered in front of them.

"This is just for beginners," Kathryn said. "We're set on the lowest setting. As you get more comfortable with the phaser and your aim improves, we can increase the setting."

Carol swallowed back her amusement.

Kathryn had no reason to know that Carol's aim wasn't too bad. She'd never asked, and Carol had never offered that information. There was no offense meant in Kathryn's choice of the lowest setting of her game.

"What's the object of the game?" Carol asked.

"Hit the target," Kathryn said.

Carol laughed.

"That's it? Just—hit the target?"

"Once we start, it'll be a moving target," Kathryn said. "And the game will keep score. So—I guess—your goal is to hit the target more often than I do. At least—at this level of the game."

"The rules change as we get better?" Carol asked.

Kathryn smiled.

"The rules always change, Carol, as you move up the ranks," Kathryn said with a wink. "Firing is easy. You just push that trigger button. Don't worry about missing. These phasers are just for the game. Even if you were to hit me directly, you wouldn't hurt me."

The captain looked thrilled just to be playing a game with her. Carol assumed, though, that just like people probably seldom told Kathryn "no" when she wanted something, they probably seldom actually did things like played games with her. Carol, however, wasn't one of her crew. Carol was just another woman who happened to be living with her on the same ship.

Carol shrugged.

"Let's play," she offered. Kathryn looked pleased. She moved some distance away from Carol as if to give them room to move around.

"Free shot to you," Kathryn said. "Just—so you get a little of the feel of things. You want to just aim at the target. Keep your hand as steady as you can. Keep your eye on the spot you want to hit, and then you just fire."

"I think I've got the idea," Carol offered.

She didn't want to come off as too cocky. She'd never fired one of the little guns and, for all she knew, it may fire entirely differently from any weapon she'd somewhat mastered on Earth. She used the first shot as just what Kathryn suggested it should be—an opportunity to get the feeling of the weapon. It required hardly any touch to send the laser beam toward the disc, and there was no kickback. It was almost like a toy more than an actual weapon. Carol made solid contact with the disc and sent it sailing away.

"Good shot!" Kathryn yelped.

Carol was wholeheartedly surprised when the disc made a sharp turn, increased its speed, and whizzed back in Kathryn's direction. It came straight for her, and she raised her own weapon, fired on it, and sent it backward with the hit. Almost immediately, the disc corrected its course and came zooming toward Carol as fast as if it had been pitched at her.

She heard herself laugh before her body even fully registered the pleasure that bubbled up inside of her over the game. She heard Kathryn laugh, too, as she raised her phaser and sent the disc off on another trip around the room that reminded her of an empty warehouse.

"You didn't say it was an attack target!" Carol barked, not feeling genuinely angry at all.

"Did I forget that part?" Kathryn teased. Each of them fired off another round of defense against the target. Carol stepped to the side, but her movement didn't matter. When the target was set on her, it tracked her. "You didn't tell me you could aim so well."

"Did I forget that part?" Carol shot back, laughing to herself at Kathryn's expression as she dodged the disc that swooped toward her head.

Kathryn commanded to the computer that it could up the intensity of the program and the two of them moved further apart to allow more room for the disc to hurl itself around and attack on either one of them. Even though the intensity increased, though, the game was still casual enough to be enjoyable. It was relaxing instead of stressful, and Carol enjoyed sharing laughter with her playing partner over nothing more than the silly movements each of them had to make in order to dodge the erratic target as it moved to attack them.

"I needed this," Kathryn mused as they played. "I left strict orders not to call me for at least an hour over something that someone else can handle."

Carol laughed to herself.

"Are you talking about what happened at the mess hall this morning?" Carol asked. Kathryn's exasperated sigh told her that she was right. "We tried to break it up. I've never seen two people more determined to…to do that, there, than they were."

"I wish that were the worst thing going on," Kathryn said. "I don't know what's gotten into everyone around here, but I'm determined to find out. The problem is, I can't seem to concentrate. And I'm no good at solving riddles if I can't even think."

Carol didn't say anything, but she felt her gut clench at Kathryn's words. She hadn't been able to concentrate all day long. She'd been constantly in and out of something like a fog. She'd come close, actually, to burning her hand on a flame, and the only thing that had stopped her was Neelix physically moving her.

The worst part was that she couldn't even explain what had her so distracted beyond calling it some kind of schoolgirl fixation.

She'd woken that morning to find the bed empty. Daryl had left early for his shift, and she'd felt such a profound sadness over his empty half of the bed that she'd been ashamed of herself. Daryl was her best friend. He'd been her best friend for years. She absolutely could not imagine her life without him. But she had no hold over him. She didn't control him. She certainly had no reason to feel sad that he'd gone to work without saying goodbye.

Her sadness had given way to an unexpected, and somewhat out of left field, wave of desire that she couldn't ignore like she usually could when she found herself wanting something more with Daryl. She wished he was still in the bed. She wished she did have some hold over him. She wished he'd woken her before he'd gone on his shift with something very specific in mind.

She'd been embarrassed, hot-faced, and nervous when she'd requested a vibrator from the magic machine that produced something from nothing. She'd worried that, hundreds of years in the future, people had outgrown sex or, at the very least, had outgrown sexual accoutrements in favor of something she didn't even know existed and could never discover unless, by some strange chance, someone let such knowledge slip. She'd been pleasantly surprised when, instead of telling her that vibrators no longer existed, the computer gave her list after list of specifications she could choose from to design the absolute toy of her dreams.

Carol had arrived a little late to her shift in the mess hall, disheveled, and still pinning her hair up. Neelix was an easy boss, though, and he didn't say anything about her tardiness.

She also arrived with her knees feeling very much like jelly. She was distracted, thinking about when she'd next sneak a session with the toy tucked away in her clothing drawer, when the couple had decided to have an intimate experience at a table in the corner. Neelix had tried to talk them out of their fraternization, as he'd called it, but they'd seemed practically unable to even hear him or Carol talking to them.

And even though Carol had thought she'd probably quenched her thirst for a while, seeing them making out like they were had only reminded her that she hoped for another round with the toy soon—especially since that was likely as good as things were going to get. Daryl, after all, possibly didn't even see her that way. He may hardly even see her as a woman. She was his friend and, she knew, he'd been very standoffish with women in the past. Even the women she'd tried to push him toward—wondering if she saw some spark of interest there—he'd refused to entertain.

She would never do anything to make him uncomfortable. But he didn't have to know who she thought about when she was alone and entertaining herself.

"That's one reason you're really lucky, you know?" Kathryn said.

Carol jumped. She fired at the disc. She'd been daydreaming. She'd lost herself in her thoughts. There was no telling how much she'd missed. Somehow, she'd continued to fire at the target even while she'd been so far away. It had to be some leftover reflex from spending so many years of her life functioning in the "on" position while danger lurked around every single corner.

"Lucky?" Carol asked. She smiled at Kathryn when the woman furrowed her brow at her and returned the disc.

"Lucky," Kathryn said.

"I'm sorry—why, again?" Carol asked, hating that she may have missed any number of things that Kathryn had wanted to share with her.

"Daryl," Kathryn said. "A long-standing relationship like that. Most of the crew left somebody at home if there was somebody at all. I know that being—being brought onboard might not have been something wonderful that happened to you, but at least you came together. I'm happy for that. At least the Araulians brought you here together."

Carol was struck, hard, by the realization of what Kathryn had said as it seeped into her mind.

She thought that they were in a long-standing relationship, and Carol got the distinct feeling she wasn't referring to a long-standing friendship. Immediately, Carol's heart pounded in her chest. She didn't know how to tell Kathryn she was wrong and, more than that, her mind immediately screamed a half a dozen questions at her about what it was, exactly, that had led the otherwise observant and astute woman to form such a hypothesis.

"Carol!" Kathryn barked.

Carol saw the disc hurtling toward her. She might have imagined that, moving as fast as it was, it was going to hurt when it made contact, but it slowed almost to stillness before it delicately touched against her and then backed off.

"Contact," the computer announced. "Match to Janeway."

Kathryn laughed.

"What happened?" She asked, walking over. "You didn't even try to hit it."

"I guess—I got distracted," Carol said, not sure how to even address the situation.

"No bother, really," Kathryn offered. "We can start it over."

As though the ship heard her, her combadge chirped immediately.

"Chakotay to Janeway."

Kathryn gave Carol a playful eyeroll.

"Go ahead, Commander," she said, a smile on her face instead of the half-scowl she'd worn earlier.

"You're needed in engineering," Chakotay responded.

"Is this not something that you can handle, Commander?" Kathryn asked. "I'm on break for at least another half an hour."

"I really think this is something you need to be involved with, Captain," Chakotay responded.

"Same as what's been going on all day, Commander?" Kathryn asked.

"A little more serious, perhaps," Chakotay responded. There was some genuine urgency to his voice. Carol was certain that Kathryn heard it, too.

"Understood," Kathryn said. "I'll come directly there. Janeway out." Kathryn looked at Carol and sighed. "You don't have to come. You can change, instead. I'm going straight there, though. I'll change after I see what fires need to be put out."

"I'm coming," Carol said. "I'd like to know what's going on."

Kathryn nodded her understanding.

"Computer, end program," Kathryn said.

Everything around them vanished, including the hovering disc and the phaser that Carol held in her hand. They were still in the warehouse type room, though, and Carol followed Kathryn into the corridors. Whether she was in her uniform or her workout clothes, Kathryn still had a certain regal quality to her. That remained true even as she half-jogged through the corridors with Carol on her heels.

Carol hadn't been to engineering yet, but she got a feeling that she didn't want to miss whatever was taking place.


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here (if anyone wanted it). **

**If you missed the last one, posted earlier today, please don't forget to go and read it (and hopefully to let me know what you think about it!)**

**I hope you enjoy this one! Let me know what you think! **

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Carol had witnessed a lot of fights in her life.

Unfortunately, she'd been in many fights herself. She had fought to kill many times, and she'd fought with the feeling that she'd surely be killed before the fight was over.

The brawl that was taking place in engineering, when they arrived, was one that was really unlike any that Carol had ever seen before.

It appeared that they'd cleared the place out before their arrival. When they came in, Carol could identify Daryl, the pilot that she knew as Tom—a man who had a great deal of interest in Carol and Daryl's time period, Chakotay, and the Vulcan man that they called Tuvok, and who was responsible for security.

Carol had met all of these people and had spent time in their presence.

There were two other people there—two people who were locked in a truly vicious fight—that Carol didn't know well. Even though Carol had not actually crossed paths with the half-Klingon engineer, the forehead of the woman suggested to her that B'Elanna was one of the two fighters. Daryl had mentioned her forehead. The other fighter had the pointed ears like Tuvok's, so Carol assumed he must be a Vulcan.

"What is going on here?" Kathryn demanded as soon as they'd entered the room.

"Daryl—what happened?" Carol asked, almost at the same time. Daryl's face showed the clear signs that he'd been punched at least once.

"It would appear that Ensign Vorik has issued a kunat kalifee," Tuvok offered in a steady tone of voice.

"Which is?" Kathryn asked, directing the question at Tuvok before she immediately directed another question in Daryl's direction. "Mr. Dixon—are you OK?"

Daryl muttered a "fine" and stalked a little around the space, but he hadn't yet explained what had happened or how he'd managed to end being hit.

"A part of Vulcan mating rituals," Tuvok offered. "Vulcan mating rituals are very private, however."

"Nothing is private while it's tearing apart engineering, Lieutenant Tuvok. I want information, and I want it quickly. Why haven't you separated them?"

"I tried to break 'em up," Daryl offered. "I tried to stop him…"

"As you can see, separating them is not that simple, Captain," Chakotay offered.

"It's not that complicated," Kathryn responded. "Stun them if you have to, but stop this fighting!"

"Given the nature of what's taking place," Tuvok offered, "it is recommendable that the fight be allowed to run its course."

"I assume you're going to explain that, Tuvok?" Kathryn challenged.

"As I said," Tuvok continued, "Vulcan mating rituals are usually kept private. However, they usually do not take place in so public an arena."

"He said he wanted to mate her or some shit," Daryl offered, clearly frustrated with the Vulcan's slow rendition of the story. "And she said she didn't wanna fuck him. So, he got pissed about it. Grabbed her an' she clocked the fuck outta him. He come back for more and I called Chakotay. I tried to break 'em up, but…"

Daryl fell off and looked back in the direction of the two that were fighting viciously. Carol could only describe them as fighting with actual fangs bared. Someone had torn some piece of a railing loose. Despite who had been the one to tear it loose, though, B'Elanna was the one who had come into possession of it. She wielded it as a weapon and swung at her opponent like it was the bottom of the ninth and the bases were loaded.

Carol could barely look away. She was drawn to the fight in a way that she couldn't explain. She was almost morbidly fascinated by it. She only looked away at all because, as the battle moved somewhat in their direction, she felt herself being shoved backward. It was Daryl. He had her by the shoulders and he was hauling her backward whether she intended to move or not.

"Get out their fuckin' way," Daryl said. "They'll run over you."

"It's my opinion that Ensign Vorik must be undergoing a particularly acute onset of the pon farr."

"The Vulcan need to breed," Chakotay offered as though he were reciting some information that he'd read somewhere.

"Need to breed or not," Tom Paris interjected, "B'Elanna doesn't have to breed with this guy if she doesn't want to. It doesn't matter what he needs!"

"He ain't wrong!" Daryl offered loudly. Carol was aware that—as they stood some distance from the others and from the fight, Daryl remained behind her with his arm looped around the upper part of her chest and shoulders so that he could easily tug her backward if such a thing were necessary. "You can't make her breed him—or whatever you call it. I don't care what fuckin' year it is."

Kathryn spread her arms in either direction. Carol didn't know if one could actually visibly see a headache, but she had a feeling that she could see the unmistakable evidence on Kathryn's features that she was at least developing one.

"Nobody is breeding with anybody," Kathryn said. "At least not here—and not right now. Who knows what else is happening on my ship today? Tuvok—as head of security, please split them up before they tear each other, and engineering, to pieces."

"What I was going to say, Captain," Tuvok offered, still as even-keeled as before, "is that the pon farr is fatal if the Vulcan is not able to satisfy the need."

"That's the oldest damn line in the book," Daryl offered. "And shit might be uncomfortable, but it ain't fatal."

Carol swallowed back her laughter. She didn't miss that Chakotay looked struck, as well, and even Kathryn looked amused by Daryl's assessment of the line that the need to breed was fatal once the desire struck.

"With all due respect," Tuvok said, "Vulcan physiology is vastly different than human physiology. A Vulcan must mate or fight the kunat kalifee to survive. It would appear that Ensign Vorik has issued the challenge. Now, one of them must win."

"And if he wins?" Tom asked, somewhat pacing around the invisible perimeter of the fight. He looked exactly like someone studying the gears on a machine, anxious to figure out how to get their hand in there and yank out something they wanted without losing neither their hand nor the desired object.

"Tradition would dictate that if B'Elanna wins, pon farr is broken. His fever will be purged, and she will be under no obligation to be his mate. If Ensign Vorik wins, tradition would dictate that B'Elanna should join him in marriage and become his mate."

"You can't seriously be suggesting that we allow Ensign Vorik to win the right to mate with B'Elanna," Chakotay offered, "no matter the outcome of the fight."

"Right," Tom said quickly. "She can make her own choices."

"He's right," Daryl offered. "That's barbaric shit."

"I am not suggesting anything," Tuvok said. "I am merely reciting tradition. As B'Elanna is half-human and half-Klingon, she is bound by the traditions of her parents' species. She is not bound by Vulcan tradition. Whether she wins or loses the fight, the choice to mate with Ensign Vorik or to refuse his offer is hers. However, she will be condemning him to death if she refuses him and we're unable to arrange a suitable alternative."

"No other woman on the ship likes him?" Tom asked.

"It is probable that he chose Lieutenant Torres because her Klingon strength would make her the only partner able to withstand his Vulcan strength," Tuvok offered nonchalantly. "Physically, they are well-balanced as mates."

"I don't think it's going to matter," Carol offered.

Immediately she had the attention of everyone. She was suddenly aware that she was wearing ridiculous spandex clothing and that Daryl was holding her in a tight and protective way like he intended—if things went really badly—to drag her with him as far away as they were capable of going. She fought back the surge of embarrassment and ignored the extreme heat that felt like it boiled in her body and found release in her face.

"They're getting tired," Carol offered, gesturing with her hand toward where the fight was beginning to slow down. She'd been watching it with a great deal of interest. Both beings were, in theory, quite human, despite some of their physical characteristics. Still, watching them fight each other with so much fury made them seem very animalistic. It reminded Carol they were all animals. It made her think of a great number of things that, honestly, she was glad nobody else in the room had the power to witness. She refused to let herself sink back into her thoughts, though, for the time being. She had too many eyes on her to let them know that she'd been losing her concentration, steadily and inappropriately, throughout the day. "And it looks like—she's going to last longer than he is."

B'Elanna was clearly exhausted. She dragged the piece of railing—broken as it was—behind her like a club. Ensign Vorik squirmed around on the floor like a stomped-on animal that was trying to decide if it was willing to die or would try to rise once more. As if Carol had rung the final bell of a match, he slumped to the floor, still, and B'Elanna dropped her club before dropping down as well. Tom, who had been stalking the fight nearby, reached her before she hit the ground and cradled her instead of letting her lie on the floor.

Carol assumed that he was particularly frustrated by the events because Vorik, as the Vulcan man had been called, had clearly tried to breed with his girlfriend—or mate, because Carol honestly wasn't sure what half-Klingons called their chosen partners and the lingo was all a bit overwhelming for her.

"Is that the end, Mr. Tuvok?" Kathryn asked, exhaustion coming through in her tone.

Chakotay rushed forward to drop down next to Ensign Vorik and check his injuries. Carol felt Daryl release the hold he had on her. She could hear him breathing heavily even without looking at him. He was reacting strongly to what had taken place there. He had been afraid. Perhaps he'd first been afraid for B'Elanna and what might happen to her, but then he'd been afraid—no matter how needlessly—that Carol might stumble into the path of the miniature battle royale.

Daryl had always been protective, but in light of what Kathryn had said—what she believed about the nature of their relationship—Carol's heart thundered in her chest at the thought that he'd moved so quickly to protect her. She didn't want to read anything into it. She didn't want to put words in Daryl's mouth or thoughts in his head.

But she couldn't help but wonder and a part of her couldn't help but flutter in response to the thought.

"Ensign Vorik has lost the fight," Tuvok said. "He has been denied his chosen mate. The fever will be purged and his pon farr has ended for at least another seven years. He's no longer in any mortal danger."

"And he'll just be the regular, controlled Vulcan that we've all come to know?" Kathryn asked.

"His ability to exercise emotional discipline will return," Tuvok offered.

"Mr. Dixon—we can heal the damage done to you in the fight. It was very—chivalrous—of you to come to B'Elanna's rescue," Kathryn offered. She redirected her attention toward Tom, who was gathering up an exhausted B'Elanna in his arms, and Chakotay who was speaking to a Vorik who seemed at least able to sit, with assistance, at this point. "How are our competitors doing?"

"There appear to be no major or extremely urgent injuries, Captain. Regardless, we should get everyone involved to sickbay," Chakotay said. "The doctor can treat their wounds and, perhaps, make sure that Ensign Vorik is feeling back to his old self."

"Are we certain that sickbay is…fully operational, at this time, Commander?" Kathryn asked. "Have there been any developments while I was on the holodeck?"

"None that have been reported," Chakotay responded. "But the fact remains that we have people who need to go to sickbay, and we have to deal with Kes's situation eventually. We might as well take care of everything at once."

Kathryn laughed to herself and ended the sound with a groan.

"As usual, you're right, Commander," Kathryn said. She sighed. "Let's get everyone who needs medical care to sickbay and see what we can do about putting out a few more fires. Lieutenant Tuvok—please get everyone back to engineering, and see that this mess gets cleaned up."

Carol heard him say "Aye, Captain," even as Kathryn disappeared out the door with Chakotay, supporting Vorik, and Tom, carrying B'Elanna, following after her.

Carol didn't say anything when Daryl dropped an arm around her and pressed his palm to her back to guide her out of the room. She simply went with him, her heart beating irregularly over the simple, innocent touch.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I've posted several (and there may be more), so please go back and make sure that you haven't missed any! Otherwise, you'll be missing chunks out of the progression. **

**Also, I'm posting a reminder that both couples will feature prominently in this story. We'll see both of them progress throughout, and we'll focus on both at different times, in different chapters, and even in the same chapters. It's necessary, though, to focus on one or the other at this time in the story as I'm moving both couples toward becoming actual functioning couples. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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As was reasonable, they would go in order of seriousness. Daryl's injuries amounted to some darkening bruises on his face and a damaged hand where he'd done his best to fight back against the Vulcan who he thought was going to take advantage of the half-Klingon that he was slowly coming to regard as a friend. What he'd apparently learned was that he was not prepared to fight a Vulcan in the state of pon farr, as Tuvok had called it, and that half-Klingon women were more than capable of taking care of themselves.

His injuries were minor, all things considered, and there was no hurry to have them treated. Vorik and B'Elanna had likely suffered much greater injuries. Therefore, as they neared sickbay, Carol and Daryl fell back a little to be the last ones to enter.

They hesitated, a moment, in the corridor before actually entering sickbay.

Carol's heart was beating fast and she was aware that her breathing was irregular. She felt warm. Hot. But not in an entirely unpleasant way. The way that Daryl smiled at her—the corner of his mouth crooking upward—only increased her feelings. She smiled in response, unable to stop herself.

"What?" She breathed out. Her brain screamed out a thousand different responses it wished he would say.

"What the hell are you wearing?" He asked, looking her up and down.

Carol felt a surge of embarrassment. She'd forgotten that she and Kathryn—in the whirlwind excitement of everything—hadn't taken the opportunity to change out of their spandex athletic-wear.

"Shut up, asshole," Carol said, still unable to stop smiling at him. His smile didn't break, either. The way he kept his eyes glued on hers, whether he meant to or not, only made her heart continue its wild dance in her chest. She felt a little light-headed, and she was almost considering asking the doctor to have a look at her to see if there was something going on that made her feel so unusually jittery today. "It's athletic clothing. Kathryn and I were playing a game on the holodecks. We didn't change because of the fight. I know I look ridiculous."

"I wouldn't say that," Daryl offered.

"What would you say?" Carol asked.

She was horrified when she heard herself say the words. They slipped out, though, before she could stop them. Daryl's face blanched. She could see that his breathing sped up. He held her eyes a moment longer with eyes that looked filled with something akin to fear. Then he quickly turned away.

"Better go in—remind 'em we're out here," he said, reaching a hand to grab for her arm and tug her, behind him, into sickbay.

Carol had challenged him—even without meaning to—and he'd made it clear, perhaps, that he didn't mean anything. He meant nothing more than what he'd already said.

She might have spent some time feeling sorry for herself, if she weren't immediately drawn into everything that was taking place in the crowded sickbay.

The doctor was treating Ensign Vorik, having clearly decided his injuries were more pressing than B'Elanna's. Tom was standing beside a bed where B'Elanna rested.

None of those things were remarkable in any way.

Carol and Daryl naturally moved toward the other part of sickbay where something was taking place that neither of them knew how to explain—at least not yet.

Kathryn and Chakotay stood side-by-side as they listened to Kes speak. Kes sat on one of the beds. She was normally a neat and well-put together little creature. Carol saw her every day since she'd been working in the mess hall. Kes, it seemed, was in a relationship with Neelix. They were, in Carol's opinion, very much an odd couple, but she didn't deny anyone love—and she felt like the two did, at the very least, truly care for one another. They seemed happy in one another's presence.

Carol found Kes to be friendly and quite bubbly. She was always happy, and it was absolutely contagious. With her pointed ears, she reminded Carol of a woodland fairy from the fairytales she'd read when she was younger.

At the moment, though, she looked a great deal different than she normally did. She was absolutely saturated with what Carol could only assume was sweat. She somewhat writhed on the bed even as she sat up to demand the attention of Kathryn and Chakotay. Her eyes looked different. She was clearly feverish or something of the like.

"Captain—the decision has to be made soon," Kes said. "By the time the elogium progresses to the next stage, I have to know what I'm doing or I'll miss the window."

Kathryn honestly looked a little heartbroken over the things Kes was saying. Carol leaned in to hear a little better. She became aware, as well, of Daryl's hand on her shoulder like he was holding her back from getting too close.

"I can't make that decision for you, Kes," Kathryn said. "It's beyond my power. Only you can decide what's best for you—but I give you full freedom to make the decision that you think is best. I will support you no matter what decision you make."

"I'm not asking you to make the decision for me, Captain Janeway," Kes said, some pleading to her voice. "I'm coming to you—like I would my mother. To help me make my own decision."

Chakotay stood just behind Kathryn. Just at her right shoulder. He almost stood at full attention. He watched everything, his eyes flicking from Kes to Kathryn and back again, but he didn't offer any opinion. He was simply offering his silent support. He was, clearly, a man who felt no threat in deferring entirely to Kathryn. Carol wondered if every aspect of their relationship was like that.

Kathryn had spoken about Carol and Daryl being lucky to have each other instead of—like so many on the ship—having left someone behind. Kathryn and Chakotay were clearly lucky to have both been onboard Voyager when the ship was tossed into the Delta Quadrant by whatever alien hand had been at work.

Kathryn reached out and took Kes's hand—a move that Carol wasn't sure she would do in the Ocampan's current condition, and especially given the fact that her hands looked remarkably like they were covered in some unidentifiable substance.

"Kes—I don't feel…qualified…to give you advice. I've never been a mother…"

"I have," Carol offered before she caught herself. Like the words in the corridor, it seemed like her words were as quick to get away from her as her thoughts had been all day. She didn't regret what she said, though, when Kes looked at her with some hope on her features.

"It's the elogium," Kes said. Carol had no idea what that meant, but she nodded her head as though she did. She tried to move forward, but the tightening of Daryl's fingers on her shoulders told her that he didn't think that was a good idea, and he was going to do his best to make sure she kept some distance from Kes and whatever her elogium may be. "Ocampans produce only one child in their lives. The elogium occurs when it's time for that to happen. I'm younger than most Ocampans when they make the decision and—even though we'd somewhat talked about it in idle conversation—Neelix and I weren't really prepared to make this decision now. He's not sure he's ready to be a father. But—if I don't do this now, I'll never be a mother. There are other ways I could conceive if Neelix isn't ready. I could be a mother on my own with the doctor's help. I just don't know—if I should do that. If I'll regret that or if Neelix will regret that. But—I also don't know if I'll regret missing my one opportunity at motherhood if I don't take it."

Carol's chest ached a little as she regarded the young woman who now looked at her like she truly held all the secrets to the universe—or all the universes, as the case may be. She was vaguely aware, too, that several other eyes were focused on her.

"I guess we're lucky, as a species. For us, having children is not over until it's over, if we're able to have them. You can have more than one chance. But—one chance or twenty, having children is difficult," Carol said. "And painful—and I don't mean in the physical sense, but I guess there's that…for our species. I don't know about…about yours. But it's also a beautiful thing. A wonderful thing. I wouldn't trade the time I had with—with any of my children—to get rid of the pain that losing them left me. Being a mother has been one of the things I've loved most in my life."

"So, you think I should do it?" Kes asked.

Carol smiled to herself.

"That's still a decision that I nobody can make for you. Not me or—Captain Janeway. Not even your mother, if she were here. Kes—it's a decision that…everyone has to make for themselves. But if you're going to become a parent? You can consider it to be just the first hard decision of a million that you'll have to make."

Kes thanked Carol, but Carol could tell it was something of a half-hearted thanks. Kes wanted someone to tell her what to do. She wanted someone to make the decision for her. Of course, wasn't that how they all felt when they had to make a hard decision? Maybe things weren't that different across species, after all.

When the doctor loudly indicated to Daryl that he could take his place on one of the beds—everyone else having finished up with whatever treatment they needed and having left the sickbay when Carol wasn't paying attention—Carol followed Daryl over to the bed.

Daryl hopped up, clearly a little more comfortable with sickbay than he had been when they'd first arrived on the ship, and the doctor looked at him a moment before stepping away to fumble with any number of tools and items he had.

Carol rested her hand in Daryl's.

Part of her told her not to do it. Part of her told her that he'd tried to make his feelings clear. Part of her told her that not saying anything to her was saying, very clearly, that he didn't want more with her than he had.

But the other part of her wanted to hold his hand. She took his hand before she even decided to really do so—but her thoughts and words were running away from her at every turn, so it seemed only fitting that an action or two might follow suit.

"Want me to hold your hand?" Carol asked.

"Shut up," Daryl said with a laugh. He didn't pull his hand away, though.

"That was—very brave what you did," Carol offered. "Standing up for B'Elanna."

"Asshole had no business comin' for her like that," Daryl said. "Especially not when she said she didn't want what he was tryin' to give—ya know?"

Carol smiled to herself.

"I know," she agreed, nodding her head. "Everyone should have the right to—to decide…who they want to mate with. And—when they want to mate with them."

Daryl's cheeks blushed. He cleared his throat and turned his face away from her, but he didn't withdraw his hand from hers.

"Alright, Mr. Dixon," the doctor said. "The regenerator won't hurt, so there's no need to pull away from me or threaten to fight me like you did the last time I saw you."

Carol laughed to herself. Daryl laughed a little, too.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"I'm growing quite accustomed to combative patients," the EMH said as a way of accepting Daryl's apology. He used the tool that he called a regenerator on Daryl's face and, slowly, Carol saw any sign of bruising disappear as surely as if he'd been using an eraser. He lifted Daryl's hand—the one that Carol wasn't holding—and used the regenerator to erase the evidence that Daryl had done his best to break Vorik's face for his decision to try to and convince B'Elanna to do something she had no intention of doing.

Then he scanned Daryl with the tool that Carol already knew was a magical little tool called a tricorder. It seemed able to diagnose everything.

"How's the patient?" Kathryn asked, walking up.

Carol jumped. She hadn't heard Kathryn and Chakotay coming over.

"Physical injuries are healed," the doctor said. "However—there is something here that I should point out to you, Captain. I noticed it as I scanned B'Elanna and Ensign Vorik. Also, I noticed the same thing, this morning, when I scanned Mr. Neelix during his visit to speak with Kes."

"What is it, Doctor?" Kathryn asked.

"Carol—may I?" The doctor asked, holding out the scanner in her direction. Carol nodded and he passed the tricorder scanner around the space surrounding her. He hummed to himself.

"What? What the hell is wrong?" Daryl asked sharply.

"I'm simply testing a hypothesis," the doctor said. "There's nothing to be concerned about—or combative about, Mr. Dixon." He looked at Kathryn. "May I—scan you, Captain? And you, Commander?"

"Certainly, Doctor," Kathryn said, answering for both of them.

The doctor scanned both of them before he hummed to himself again, slightly shook his head, and turned off his tricorder.

"What is it, Doctor?" Kathryn asked, brow furrowed.

"It may be nothing at all," the doctor admitted. "It's just that—no matter the species, and even in the absence of any complaints at all, even though I'm sure that some people may not be voicing every little symptom they're experiencing…"

"Doctor," Kathryn said, interrupting him, "if there's something we need to be concerned about…"

He responded to the redirection.

"Elevated heartrates, respiratory rates, blood pressure," the doctor named off. "Captain, in short, everyone I've scanned is showing signs of—sustained sexual arousal."

Carol felt struck. She felt a little embarrassed. Part of her felt even a little relieved and validated. But she also felt strangely aware that everyone around her was feeling something that none of them had revealed to each other because of the very delicate nature of those feelings.

"I see," Kathryn said, her face blank. "Any ideas as to the cause?"

"Beyond normal biological influences, I haven't any idea," the doctor offered.

"That could explain some of the indiscretion and difficulties that we've seen arising. Is there—a cure, Doctor?" Chakotay asked. Carol didn't miss that he was swallowing back amusement.

"Beyond the natural biological cure, Commander, I'm afraid I'm at a loss again," the doctor offered.

"I think, for the time being, and until we have some more—information—on this, it might be best to request that everyone return to quarters to keep their distance," Kathryn said. "We can operate with a smaller crew for the time being. And we'll get started putting our heads together to find some possible explanation."

Chakotay agreed with Kathryn's idea.

And Carol was glad that the doctor had tucked his tricorder away because her heart had chosen its own unique rhythm—which he surely would have detected—at the thought of being sent to quarters.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**If you missed the onslaught of updates yesterday, please make sure that you go back and catch up on anything that you missed before you read this chapter.**

**I hope to get at least one more out today if time and my muse permit. **

**I hope that you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!**

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Chakotay led Kathryn with his hand at the small of her back. The touch was meant to give her some reassurance as much as anything else. Everything was visibly weighing on her. They paused only a second outside his quarters and the doors hissed open. He ushered her inside.

"You didn't have to do all this," she said, her voice practically dripping with appreciation.

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"Prepare dinner so I can eat?" Chakotay asked. "Actually, I did. It may be a little-known fact to you, Kathryn, but most beings require nourishment on a regular basis. Sit. You need to eat." Kathryn did sit at the table, and Chakotay lit the candles he'd put out before he served the wine that would accompany dinner. "I see you took the time to change back into your uniform," he said, laughing to himself.

Kathryn laughed in response.

"Are you going to report me for spending most of the day out of uniform?" She asked.

Chakotay smiled to himself. He couldn't tell her everything he was thinking. He wouldn't dare. The outfit she'd been wearing had been quite form-fitting and he, in absolutely no way, objected to following her around the ship while she was wearing it.

He settled instead, for gesturing to her to begin eating the meal that was set out before her and reached for a piece of bread for himself.

"Not at all," Chakotay said. "You've been working steadily. And it isn't every day that a Vulcan loses their emotional control and challenges a Klingon to a battle of the fittest in engineering."

"What a day," Kathryn mused. She sighed and filled her mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. She hummed in appreciation of the food and made an expression of pleasure, rolling her eyes gently in Chakotay's direction. He dropped his face to study his food for fear that she'd realize that the expression, especially in his current condition, only made his mind go to dangerous places. "And it isn't over yet," she said when she'd swallowed down the food.

"It's nearly over," Chakotay offered. "I've seen to it that the Beta shift has gone off and the Gamma shift is in place. The Alpha shift remains on call, as you requested. I released the few we had held over, and I just released our civilian crewmembers who agreed, very kindly, to work even though they were under no obligation to their captain. We are, officially, operating on a skeleton crew. By now, Carol, Daryl, and Neelix will have reached their quarters along with the Beta shift that just turned in. Everyone anxiously awaits information from the captain." There was a sigh from Kathryn. "Has there been anything new?"

"I've been in and out of the labs," Kathryn said. "We don't know what it is, but there must be a compound in that cloud that we were going to explore—some compound we've never encountered before—that's causing the fever."

"An aphrodisiac," Chakotay mused.

"Strong enough to disrupt the mating cycles of some of our species with more definitive mating rituals," Kathryn said. "Even the ones with biologically controlled mating cycles."

"What are you going to do?" Chakotay asked.

"There's nothing to do," Kathryn said. "The closer we get to the cloud, the hotter the fever seems to burn in everyone. The mating concerns aside, the fever itself could reach a dangerous temperature if we keep on our current course. A high enough fever could cause serious damage to the body systems of the crew. I already requested a course change. We're moving away from the cloud. If our hypothesis is correct, we should start to see at least some improvement by tomorrow morning." She shook her head. "Nothing the cloud could contain is worth risking injury to my crew."

"And then the fever passes and everything returns to normal," Chakotay said.

"If only it happened that quickly," Kathryn mused. "We've been experiencing these symptoms for days without realizing what was going on. The highest concentration of reactions has been seen today. Even with the filters going, it's going to take time to clean the ship, and that's after we've moved away from the anomaly. We have no idea, either, how long it will take bodies to be rid of what they've already absorbed. I'm afraid we may have a few more days of chaos ahead of us."

Chakotay allowed them to eat in silence for a moment before he interrupted the quiet with words.

"Captain—if I may make an observation," he offered.

Kathryn smiled at him. He loved her smile. He loved the little hint of mischief that often accompanied it when she was feeling playful or even a little tired.

"You know I always welcome your observations, Chakotay," Kathryn said, casually picking up her wine glass and washing the flavors from her mouth with a sip of the fermented liquid.

"We're looking at a trip of almost seventy years back to the Alpha Quadrant," Chakotay said.

"We're hoping for shortcuts," Kathryn interrupted. "New developments. I hope I can get everyone home sooner."

"We'll all hope for the best," Chakotay said. "But—worst case scenario? That's more than the natural life span of many of our crewmembers. For many others, who do survive the trip, they will return home at the end of their natural lifespan. They'll return home too old to start their lives where they left off. Many will feel they're too old to start new relationships. Many will feel that they're too old to start families, even if medicine makes it possible, because they will fear leaving their children behind at too young an age."

Kathryn sunk a little under the weight of hearing, out loud, what she already knew.

"That's why I have to explore every possible avenue of getting them home earlier," Kathryn said. "I don't want to rob them of their lives."

"Which leads me to what I'm about to say," Chakotay said. "We all want to find ways to get back, Captain. As soon as possible. But it's also a good idea to prepare for the reality that we have in front of us, right now, at this very moment. Our crew doesn't have to give up their dreams and hopes for their lives—not entirely. They can live good, full lives on Voyager."

"I want them to have the best lives they can," Kathryn said.

Chakotay smiled to himself because he knew that she was sincere. As a captain, her concern was truly that her crew was happy and well-provided for. They worked for her. They did what she asked of them. But she gave everything she had back to them in return.

"Hear me out," Chakotay said. "If we're going to travel for seventy years, then we're going to have to replace the crew. Starfleet has no direct orders against fraternizing and relationships aboard starships. Even if they did, we can exercise the right to do what needs to be done for extreme situations. Captain—the need to find companionship is inherent in nearly every species with which we've come into contact, and with all the species onboard the ship. The need to mate, and to reproduce, while not inherent in all members of all species, is at least common among many of them."

Chakotay thought he saw a flush of red rising up in Kathryn's face, but it may have simply been a trick of light from the flickering candle that sat between them.

"What is your point, Chakotay?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay swallowed back a little humor that bubbled up within him. He could make so many points. He felt he'd already made the point he wanted to make. But she needed to hear it specifically.

"We should allow the crew to live their lives. Seek companionship. Mate and breed as their natural instincts may lead them to do," Chakotay said.

"The logistics aside, it could lead to a great deal of conflict," Kathryn said. "You saw what took place in engineering today."

"I did," Chakotay said. "And I saw two individuals work out their differences while others learned about cultures that were different to their own. We're going to have conflict, regardless. At least, this way, the crew will have the opportunity to form relationships that are meaningful to them throughout their lifespans, and some of them may choose to have children—something that some individuals would find fulfilling."

"Like Kes," Kathryn said.

"Is it wrong to allow Kes to make that decision while trying to deny that choice to every other crewmember who may want to have children?" Chakotay challenged.

"I don't want to deny people the chance to have children," Kathryn ceded.

"And—what I said earlier? If we're going to keep the ship functioning during the whole of those seventy years while we return to Earth? We're going to need an entire replacement crew. The ship can support many more individuals if necessary—and that doesn't even account for the crew that we'll lose to natural causes or, even though it's an unfortunate possibility to mention, non-natural causes. In order to achieve a functioning replacement crew? Every being in an absolutely necessary role will need to produce at least one replacement for themselves. Since many members may be unwilling or undesiring of doing that—it means that those who wish to have larger families will need to pick up the proverbial slack, Captain."

"You're saying that—not only should we allow relationships, but we should promote them," Kathryn said.

"The future of everyone depends on it, really," Chakotay said. "And, if we're going to train those children—and assuming that many of them will have human-like growth rates—it's best to start seeing the growth of those families begin rather soon."

"Turn them loose to let the anomaly do its job," Kathryn said with a laugh.

"Or to simply let nature take its course," Chakotay said.

Kathryn hummed to herself. She sat in silence and clearly thought about it. She drank the wine and Chakotay poured her another glass before sliding the bread closer to her in the hope that she would remember to eat something.

He knew that Kathryn Janeway didn't care for drinking too much. She didn't like the feeling of losing her head. He also knew that she was as affected as everyone else on the ship—with the exception of Tuvok, who remained on his normal pon farr cycle and, therefore, wasn't bothered by the anomaly, and the EMH whose status as a hologram kept him from being affected by any biological influences. The fever was lowering judgement for all of them in all areas of life.

After she'd had a moment to think about what he'd said, he could see it on her features that she agreed with him.

"Do I—tell them tonight or…wait until the morning?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"Do you think they'd rather…start responding to their feelings now, or wait until morning?" Chakotay asked.

Kathryn nodded and touched her combadge. She requested communications, and then she requested a ship-wide channel. Chakotay sat back in his chair and listened to her. She had a way of speaking about any topic—even one as delicate as mating and reproduction—with a grace and elegance that was unparalleled. Her speech was inspired, despite her fatigue, the wine, and the subject matter. They would hold onto their hopes to return to the Alpha Quadrant so very soon, but they would also live on Voyager to the fullest extent. Though they were expected to be discreet, and public displays of affection were to be kept to a tasteful minimum, she hoped that everyone would find what made them happy. And, as their captain, she welcomed any "new recruits" that may result from the choices that crewmembers made about the lives they wanted to lead.

Chakotay must have been smiling at her as he sipped his wine and waited for her to finish her announcement.

"What?" She asked.

"That was—really quite beautiful," he offered. She clearly blushed red. It was no trick of the flickering flame.

"It's not easy telling everyone that they can go forth and—and multiply," Kathryn said with a laugh.

"It's as much about the right to be happy and find love and companionship as it is the right the multiply," Chakotay offered. "You expressed that very well."

"I do want everyone to be happy," Kathryn said. "I want everyone to have the fullest lives they can. It was supposed to be a three-week mission. And Voyager was never meant to be a multi-generational ship, but…here we are. Things really do change."

"They do," Chakotay agreed. "Constantly. Does your hope of happiness and full lives extend to senior officers?"

"Of course," Kathryn said. She smiled to herself and raised her eyebrows. "Do you—already have someone in mind, Commander?" She asked, teasing him. He smiled in response.

"As it turns out," he said, "I may."

"As far as I've been informed," Kathryn said, "B'Elanna hasn't bitten any faces to declare her choice for mating."

Chakotay hummed.

Was he really that good at disguising his feelings? Was Kathryn really that blind? Or was she simply not interested at all, and this was the easiest way to make that clear?

"If I know B'Elanna," Chakotay offered, "and if my observations prove to be true at all, there's already a face she's probably set on biting—if the mate of choice wants to enter into a relationship with a woman who's half-Klingon, that is. And—it isn't me."

Kathryn shifted a little in her seat.

"Someone else, then," she offered. She ate a bite of food like it was a chore, but it gave her something else to focus on. It gave her an excuse to pull her eyes away from his.

"Can I ask you a question?" Chakotay asked.

"You already did," Kathryn said with a laugh. Chakotay accepted the teasing as permission, though possibly reluctantly given.

"Does the permission to seek a full life extend to the captain?" Chakotay asked.

"The captain has a very specific job," Kathryn said. "To take care of the crew. That often requires certain sacrifices."

"When it's necessary that those sacrifices must be made," Chakotay ceded.

"The crew expects the captain to maintain a certain—distance," Kathryn said.

"Do they?" Chakotay asked. "Or do captains use that to justify the distance they choose to keep? Surely you can't believe that the crew would ever want to deny you happiness, Kathryn." Kathryn looked at him when he called her by name. She held his eyes. She met him, for just a moment, as Kathryn Janeway and not as his captain. "You inspire your crew to love you. They would want you to have all the best."

"You don't know that," Kathryn said, her voice catching.

"I do," Chakotay said. "You've told me that—you miss companionship. Connection beyond command. You've told me that—you released Mark at least a year ago. When you realized that you didn't want him to put off his life for you. So, you're not putting off your life for him. You shouldn't put it off for the crew, either. Did you ever want children, Kathryn?"

Her breathing was clearly elevated. Her pupils were dilated. Her cheeks were pink. These were things she couldn't control. Beyond that, though, she kept a calm control over her features. She allowed only a hint of a smile to come to her lips.

"I always really wanted four," she said.

"Four?" Chakotay asked. "It's an oddly specific number."

"It's round," Kathryn said, a short burst of laughter escaping her. "And two seemed too few, but six seemed too many."

"It's a nice number," Chakotay offered. "You could still have that, Kathryn. Nothing's stopping you…except you."

Chakotay was immediately sorry that he'd pushed so hard. He'd said too much. He'd overstepped probably a dozen boundaries. He'd felt driven—he still felt driven. Everything burning inside him was driving him. He had to hold back, though. He knew, immediately, that he'd gone too far when Kathryn got to her feet in an uncharacteristic rush.

"Thank you for dinner, Commander," she said. "It was lovely. And—for all your support in the current matter. But—I really must get back to work. I'll have the shift reports from the Beta report and…I…I really have to start thinking about the logistics of the ship supporting so many possible new people. There's so much I…I have to consider."

"You should get some sleep, Captain," Chakotay offered. "I apologize if I…"

Kathryn smiled at him with the quickest hint of a smile.

"No apologies necessary," she said. "Sleep well, Chakotay."

Chakotay fought against his instincts to reach out to her. To hold her hand and stop her from leaving until she'd heard him—truly heard him. He recognized that the instinct was little more than an animal instinct boiling inside him—made stronger by the anomaly. He let her go, instead, without another word. He blew out the candle and he went to bed.

She wouldn't fill his bed that night—and, perhaps, she never would—but she would certainly fill his dreams.


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**If you missed any of the earlier chapters, please make sure that you go back and catch up. I've posted quite a few for this one and I don't want you to miss chunks of the story. **

**I will give a warning to the Caryl readers that there is some mention of Carol's past sexual relationships. It's not terribly detailed, but she is reflecting on her *ahem* dissatisfaction with some of them. You can absolutely gloss over those few sentences if the need arises.**

**I'd also like to remind everyone that this is a two-couple story, and it's rated for a reason. Both couples will have their time(s), especially as the story progresses. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Carol took a fast shower first—just something to wash off the day—and then she sat on the edge of the bed in her pajamas and waited while Daryl took his shower.

He pushed the door open just a bit and practically slithered out of the crack he created.

"Forgot my pajamas," he offered apologetically as he rushed over to the dresser where Carol had folded his pajamas and stacked them with clean underwear—something she did just because it seemed to make him happy to find his clothing neatly prepared for him.

Daryl returned to the bathroom, opened the door wider this time to let himself inside, and stepped out a moment later with his pajamas on and still clinging to his damp body.

"What's wrong?" He asked. "You look sad or something."

"Uncomfortable," Carol said. "I took a cold shower and—already I'm sweating."

"You want me to get you some cold water?" Daryl asked. "To drink?"

"I drank three glasses already," Carol offered. "I'll be sick if I drink anymore right now."

"Computer—turn down the temperature," Daryl said. The computer beeped at him.

"What temperature?" It asked.

"Hell, if I know," Daryl responded. "Five degrees—no…I'm hot, too. Shit. Computer? Ten degrees colder than it is right now." The computer beeped its understanding and Carol assumed that the room would begin to cool, little-by-little.

"My skin feels—uncomfortable," Carol said. "I feel uncomfortable in my own skin."

Daryl laughed to himself. He lit a cigarette and offered her one. She took it. She was anxious for any kind of relief she could find.

"Space has got its fuckin' bonuses," Daryl said. "I ain't been hungry since we got here and there's no sleepin' with an eye open, but it's sure as shit got its lows, too. Some pointy eared bastard with a bowl cut clocked me square in the face today and just about knocked my ass out…I'm slippin'."

Carol laughed.

"Tuvok says Vulcans have super-human strength," Carol said. "Klingons, too."

"You're sayin' I brought a water pistol to a real ass gunfight," Daryl said with a laugh. He wiped at his forehead. The sweat was already starting to form there.

Despite the fact that Carol could feel the temperature dropping around her—and she ought to feel some relief from the heat—she felt like she was boiling. She was also hornier than she'd ever been in her life. She felt, often times, that she could do without sex entirely. For much of her life, really, she had done without sex—at least, she'd done without sex she enjoyed.

Ed had been awful at sex and, as their marriage had gotten worse and worse, he'd used it as a punishment. The dry spell following the turn and the rise of the Walkers had lasted for so many years that she'd lost track. All the while, she'd thought that maybe Daryl would find that he liked her. That he was interested or ready. But he never did, and she didn't want to push him too far. She'd rather have his friendship than nothing at all. When she'd started seeking relationships to fill some kind of void, she'd avoided sex with Tobin as much as possible after the first time she'd been with him and had realized that she'd had pelvic exams that were more inspired. She'd actually welcomed the dry spell that had followed that, and she'd been grateful that Ezekiel, during the span of their relationship, had a low enough libido that she'd never had to explain to him that her desire to have his companionship wasn't enough to make her body respond to him—and he'd gladly accepted the faltering excuse that she, too, simply was never that interested in the physical side of things.

The truth was, she had a real desire to have sex—and to try things far beyond anything she'd ever tried before—but she'd never, before, been able to get the attention of the man that her imagination craved.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with your guns," Carol offered. "Maybe you just weren't meant to square off with a horny Vulcan."

"Shit—is this what the fuck our lives are now?" Daryl asked, amused. "Damn—it's so fuckin' hot. I'm—shit, I'm sorry."

He moved around, clearly uncomfortable, and Carol let her eyes drop. Maybe she shouldn't have. Maybe it was rude to ogle him. She wasn't even entirely certain she could help it, though. She was fighting to control everything she thought, or did, or said. Some things were bound to slip. The loose pajama pants made it very evident that Daryl's arousal was harder to conceal than her own.

Embarrassingly enough, she could feel her body prepare—lubricating itself for something that wasn't likely to ever take place.

She stood up, stepped near Daryl, and flicked the ashes of her cigarette into the ashtray that he would empty later.

"Maybe it's the flannel," she said.

"What?" Daryl breathed out, clearly every bit as uncomfortable as she felt.

"The heat—maybe it's the flannel," Carol said. "It was comfortable when we knew how cold the room is, but…it traps heat when we're…when we're hot like this."

Daryl stared at her. She watched his Adam's apple bob. His skin was pink from the heat. His pupils had nearly taken over his irises. She wondered if she looked the same. The fact that she could only draw shallow, quick breaths told her that she probably did.

"Maybe it is," Daryl said.

"Maybe you should—take it off?" Carol said, snubbing out her cigarette. Daryl's rested forgotten on the side of the ashtray. She snubbed it out without asking him. She flicked her eyes back in his direction. She'd never seen an expression quite so intense on his features before.

"You first," he offered.

"OK," Carol said. She saw Daryl's eyes grow bigger for a moment and she smiled to herself. "You're sure?"

He nodded, and she unbuttoned her shirt. She worked her way down until all the buttons were undone. Then she slipped off her pajama shirt and let it drop behind her. He licked his lips. She didn't imagine it and she didn't miss it.

She opened her arms to him and he went directly to her breast and latched onto her nipple as his other hand found the other breast to fondle it.

Carol closed her eyes and tossed her head back in satisfaction. Then, a though flitted across her mind as she felt Daryl's hands find the waistband of her pajama pants, his mouth moving to her other breast—clearly he was not satisfied with what little of her body he was given. She pulled away from him enough to get him to look at her.

"Somethin' wrong?" He asked.

"We know we're—under the influence of something," Carol said. He hummed. "Maybe our own pon farr?"

"Humans don't have pon farrs," Daryl said. "I don't think—maybe they do now."

"What if—it's just the influence of whatever it is? That makes us do this?" Carol asked.

"That what you think it is?" Daryl asked.

"I don't know," Carol admitted. "I don't know what's happening to us. I don't know…how you feel."

Daryl laughed to himself. He nodded his head.

"You want me to stop?" Daryl asked, his fingers still hooked in the top of Carol's pajama pants. She noticed the elastic very slowly creeping further down her hips. She smiled to herself.

"No," she said. "The last thing I want in the whole—universe—is for you to stop." She tangled her fingers in his hair. He leaned his face back toward her breast like he meant to catch her nipple again. Like he'd missed it. Carol tugged his hair just hard enough to get his attention once more. He looked at her. Frustration and, perhaps, desperation came through on his features. "What if you—regret it tomorrow?"

"I hear you," Daryl offered, staying very much in the same position where his back must surely be hurting. Carol swallowed back some amusement. "I do. But—you gonna regret it tomorrow?"

"I don't think so," Carol said.

"Me either," Daryl offered. "You good with—goin' with that?"

"But what if you do?" Carol asked. "When the fever's gone?"

"I've regretted a lot of shit in my life," Daryl said. "A whole helluva lot of it was worse than this. Not that I think I'ma regret it, but…"

Carol caught his face and pulled him to her. She kissed him and it was the greatest kiss she could imagine. He kissed her back like he meant it. Whether or not it was the influence of whatever was happening to them, the kiss felt real. He edged her backward. She was aware of what he was doing, and she went where he wanted without a fight. She stopped only when the back of her legs made contact with the side of the bed, and then she sat down rather than let herself fall backward.

"I've wanted to kiss you for forever," Carol said. "That's what it feels like."

Daryl pushed her back. She had no other way to describe him other than to say that he was hungry. Starving. Perhaps he was even hungrier than she felt. Her body ached for him, but he was caught up in a frenzy. He tugged at her pants and she lifted her hips to allow him to remove them. She worked her way backward on the bed so that she wasn't hanging over the edge.

"Yeah?" Daryl mused. "I don't know about forever—but I been waitin' at least a fuckin' decade to just…"

Whatever he'd been waiting on was swallowed up as, in one fluid motion, he pushed Carol's legs apart and, moving her knees up over his shoulders, he buried his face in between her thighs. Without show or pretense, he went straight for what he wanted, and Carol clawed at the bed in response.

Any discussion she might have wanted to have about how long she'd desired him or whether or not he'd regret what they were doing were lost in the pleasurable act itself.

Carol's mind swam. She felt entirely outside of her body and, simultaneously, as happy inside her body as she'd ever felt before. Her orgasm washed over her, and she cried out her approval to Daryl even as he took a moment to pull away from her and shuck his own pajamas before he came back and moved to claim her breath with a kiss.

"Please," she breathed out to him.

"What?" He asked, his breath blowing against her as he kissed her face.

"Don't stop," she said.

Daryl laughed. The laugh drew her back to the moment and out of the cloud she'd been floating in. She laughed at him in response, not knowing what she was laughing at, but feeling it anyway.

"Ain't hardly got started," Daryl said. He kissed her again, hungrily, and she kissed him back as he pinned her wrists to the bed and then moved his hands to seek hers. She intertwined her fingers with his. He laughed again, quietly.

"What?" Carol breathed out, enjoying the simple pleasure of feeling his skin touching hers in so many places. Her whole body felt electrified. The uncomfortable sensation from earlier—which had made it almost painful for her clothing to touch her skin—was now one of absolute ecstasy as her skin made crackling contact with Daryl's.

"Any particular way you wanted to mate?" Daryl asked with a laugh. Carol laughed in response.

"That's the least romantic thing I've ever heard," Carol said. Daryl kissed her face. He dropped his head. His tongue and teeth found her nipple again and she arched her back in response to the pleasure. It seemed like he already had ideas about what he wanted—like he'd been thinking about it since the fever first struck. She was happy, too, to see where he might go.

"Ain't it, though?" He mused.

"But it's exactly what I think I want to hear right now," Carol breathed out. She groaned in approval as Daryl teased her other nipple again, like he thought one might get jealous of the other.

"What's it gonna be then?" He asked, his voice suddenly coming out much deeper and more graveled than before.

Carol got the distinct feeling he was reaching the end of his patience. He'd waited as long as his body wanted to wait. He'd freely given, and she couldn't complain about that, but he wanted, too. And just the thought made her body react by preparing for him again. She rolled her hips upward, seeking him out, craving more of his presence.

She could barely breathe for the desire that overwhelmed her.

"Whatever you want, I'll want. All I care is…that it's now," Carol said.

"You got it," Daryl said. Without hesitation, he moved himself around. He moved her. Readjusted her hips. He brought them together and, as he sunk into her, he buried his face in the crook of her neck a moment and panted against her skin. "You got all you want," he offered, rolling his hips as she scratched his back in full appreciation of his choices.


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"Fuckin' freezin' in here," Daryl growled. It was the first thing that Carol had heard in a while. She heard it somewhat distantly. She felt like she was floating upward, inside her head, just about to surface in a pool of water.

Her body was so relaxed that it felt foreign. Deliciously, wonderfully, foreign.

She had barely slept, but she didn't really feel exhausted. She felt relaxed, but she also felt somewhat invigorated just below the surface.

She had never—never in her entire life—spent the whole night having sex with someone. She'd read about it in dozens of dime store novels, but she'd always assumed that nobody actually did such a thing. Still, she had actually experienced a night where they'd napped in between rounds of being together. Sometimes, instead of napping, they'd spend the time while they waited to go again simply drinking in each other's bodies in other ways.

And then she'd drifted off to sleep—only to now feel like she was rising up from the depths of a pool, slowly coming entirely back to wakefulness after such a short trip into what must have been reasonably deep sleep.

"Go-go gadget fuckin' blanket," Daryl complained. "Computer—fuckin' blanket!"

The computer beeped. Carol laughed to herself. She thought she could actually hear annoyance in the computer's voice.

"Cannot comply," the computer offered.

"Computer—raise temperature!" Daryl growled.

Carol laughed again.

"What temperature?"

"Computer," Carol called out, "raise the temperature ten degrees."

The computer beeped its satisfaction with the command and Daryl made his way across the mattress like an inchworm. With an easy sort of motion—like they'd been doing this for years—he reached an arm out, hooked it around Carol, and dragged her body toward him. She laughed at the movement as he flicked the blanket over both their heads, rooted his face into her shoulder, and sighed.

"I think the fever broke," Daryl said after a moment.

"Not entirely," Carol said, paying careful attention to her body. "I can feel it. There's still—there's still something there. A touch of fever."

"Well if we didn't work it out yet," Daryl offered, "then it's just gonna have to work itself out. It ain't the damned fon parr or whatever."

"Pon farr," Carol said.

"Whatever," Daryl said.

"It's not the pon farr," Carol agreed. "And—you're still here," she added after a moment.

Daryl flicked the blanket backward, off of both of their faces, and Carol shivered at the burst of cold air it let into the warm little pocket they'd created in the bed. Daryl pushed himself up onto his elbow so that he somewhat hovered over Carol.

"Did you want me to leave?" He asked.

"No," Carol said, smiling to herself.

"Did you—wanna leave?" Daryl asked.

"No," she assured him, shaking her head. "I guess—and the fever hasn't fully passed—but I was just thinking about what could happen after the fever passes."

Daryl leaned and kissed her again.

He'd kissed her so many times that her lips felt chapped.

She'd been thinking of kissing him for years. She'd been imagining him kissing her for years. She never imagined, though, that all it would take was a simple trip to space, more than three hundred years in the future, and some kind of space virus, for him to kiss her enough that her lips felt chapped.

She didn't dare to breathe the words that echoed in her mind—not yet.

"You gonna want me to go when the fever passes?" Daryl asked.

"That's the thing," Carol said. "I never wanted you to go before. Anywhere. And—I'm not going to want you to go now."

Daryl smiled to himself and settled back down next to her. Either her fever was rising or the room was warming. She no longer felt extremely cold despite the fact that the blanket wasn't covering her entirely.

"Then I'ma just stay right here, then," Daryl said with a sigh. Carol smiled to herself.

Could it all really be that simple?

"Neelix to Carol."

Carol's combadge howled from the bedside table.

"I think I was supposed to be at breakfast early," Carol mused, moving to reach for it. Daryl groaned.

"That possum-man could handle breakfast," Daryl said. "Call him back. Tell him we're doin' our civic duty. Kathryn told us to mate. That's an order."

Carol laughed to herself.

"She didn't order anyone to mate," Carol said. "And she didn't say to never go back to work because you're mating."

"She said today we're operating on limited crew with shorter shifts," Daryl said. "That much she did say."

"You memorized it?" Carol asked.

"I like bein' part of the crew," Daryl offered. "Bein' part of all this. It's kinda nice."

"But we can't be part of the crew," Carol said.

"If I'm not gettin' back to Earth for seventy fuckin' years, I got news for people on this vessel—there's a good chance I don't see that particular planet ever again. And if I'ma work on the ship the whole time I'm here, the least they can do is make me some kind of unofficial official person. Besides—what the hell are they gonna do if we do make it back and I was pretending to be part of the crew all this time? Throw my wrinkled old ass into space army jail?"

Carol laughed to herself.

"Talk to Kathryn," Carol offered.

"I won't," Daryl said. "I'm going to talk to Chakotay. And then I'm going to let him talk to Kathryn."

"You're suggesting that's the way to get what you want?" Carol teased.

Daryl got out of bed—entirely unashamed of his nudity and with every right to be—and sat with his back to Carol as he sat on the edge of the bed and lit a cigarette. The angry red scars that slashed across his skin made Carol's stomach clench as she was forced to remember the cruelty of his father. She wondered what—with her body revealed to him in the harsh light and without the fog of the full-blown fever—he would think of her scars. His reminded her how much she'd always wanted to care for him. How much she wanted to show him a tenderness that, perhaps, he'd never known. She feared, though, that her own might not stir up the same emotions in Daryl.

Carol pulled the sheet a little tighter in around her body and toyed with the combadge. Neelix repeated his call to her, but she still hesitated to answer it.

"I may be new to this," Daryl offered. "But I know that's exactly how to get what the hell I want. He's gonna be way better at gettin' her to do something than anybody else."

Carol laughed to herself. The warm rush that flooded her body at the thought that Daryl was new to something that was, as of yet, unnamed, replaced the discomfort she'd felt with the growing concern over the marred nature of her skin.

"I hope he can—get us at least unofficial titles as part of the crew," Carol offered. "You'll probably have to cut your hair, though. Military rules and all."

Daryl shrugged his shoulders.

"If it's in the rules," he offered.

Carol smiled to herself. She had known him long enough to know that Daryl probably didn't covet being in the military. However, she did know that his older brother, Merle, had at least been temporarily a part of the military, so it could be something that he'd secretly wanted and thought he wasn't cut out for—for whatever reason.

Still, she could imagine that his desire to be part of the crew was more about a sense of belonging than anything else. Daryl would always crave belonging, to some degree, no matter how much he might pretend that he wanted to remain entirely outside of everyone and everything around him. His reclusiveness had often come from a fear of not belonging, more than anything, as much as Carol's had come from a desire to run from her past and hide herself away in a place where she wasn't forced to face it when she didn't want to face it.

Daryl could belong here and, even if he couldn't fully belong with the crew in title, he could belong in spirit. Beyond that, if he wanted, he could belong with Carol.

And, even if she opened up about her past, Carol got the feeling that nobody was going to make her live it over again. Not anymore than she wanted. Nobody was going to hold it against her. Even Daryl, after all, had promised not to throw any of it in her face again.

The past was more than three centuries behind them. They could leave it there. Carol's stomach flitted when she thought about the fact that they could, if they wanted, truly face a future of their own design.

And they didn't have to be outsiders. In one way or another, they could truly belong. Maybe to each other. Maybe to something so much larger, as well.

But it all started, Carol knew, with getting dressed for work. Maybe there would be a sweet kiss goodbye as they headed off in their opposite directions. The start of some new tradition, perhaps.

Carol smiled to herself and pressed her combadge to answer the Talaxian on his third attempt to reach her.

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"Sit with me a moment?" Kathryn asked.

She looked like she'd be better off if Carol tucked her into bed. She'd only recently retired to her quarters. She was supposed to have been off duty all night, but she'd spent the night in her ready room, apparently, working through logistics and scouring sensor readings. She needed to sleep and she needed food. That's what Chakotay had said when he'd stopped, for only a moment on his way to do something with Daryl, to request that Carol take her a tray.

"If you'll eat this," Carol said, pushing the tray across Kathryn's desk and closer to her.

"I'll get some coffee," Kathryn said. She went to the replicator to order a tray of coffee. Carol gathered up the tray of food to move it. She followed Kathryn to the couch, and she made just enough room for both trays on the table. She offered the plate in Kathryn's direction. Kathryn laughed to herself. "I can see you've been training with Chakotay."

Carol laughed to herself.

"He might have mentioned that you didn't eat much last night," Carol said.

"There's been a lot going on," Kathryn offered. "It was a busy night."

Carol hummed her acceptance. She looked around the room. She took in the little accents. The items that were clearly personal. There were very few things, and it was clear that Kathryn and Chakotay must prefer something of a Spartan existence. Either that, or it was simply a tribute to the fact that this trip was never supposed to last for an entire lifetime. Carol's eyes landed on a picture frame and she got up. She stepped close to it and took in the image.

It was Kathryn. A man. A dog.

It looked like the kind of picture a couple would take together, but the man was clearly not Chakotay.

"Your—brother?" Carol asked.

"My fiancé," Kathryn said. "My ex-fiancé. Mark. We've been gone long enough now that I'm sure that Mark's moved on. Maybe he's even married. I hope he's moved on. I hope he's happy. And—I hope he's taking care of Mollie."

"Your dog?" Carol asked, leaving the picture and returning to the couch. Kathryn smiled and nodded. Carol was simply pleased that she was at least eating a few mouthfuls of the breakfast casserole.

Maybe she simply didn't care for eating alone.

"She was pregnant," Kathryn said. "I wonder about the puppies sometimes. Who got them? If Mark kept one like we'd planned to?"

Carol smiled and nodded, not knowing exactly how to respond. She chewed on a bit of the growing confusion in her gut while Kathryn chewed her way through some of the food.

"So, did you know Chakotay at all before…this?" Carol asked.

Kathryn smiled to herself. The confusion between her eyebrows confirmed that it was a confused smile and not really a genuine smile.

"I—met him in the Badlands," Kathryn said. "When we went to capture the Maquis. Before the Caretaker sent us here."

Carol laughed to herself. She truly understood very little of that, but she assumed that it didn't really matter.

"So, you do…weddings on the ship?" Carol asked.

The confusion on Kathryn's features peaked again before she smoothed it away with the practice of someone who was accustomed to being diplomatic.

"All Starfleet captains can officiate weddings," Kathryn offered.

"Who officiated your wedding?" Carol asked. "Or—can you officiate your own?" The expression that Kathryn made caused Carol's stomach to clench. "You're not married."

"No," Kathryn said. "You—thought I was married to…Chakotay?"

Carol laughed to herself.

"You say that like it's a ridiculous idea," she said. "Married—dating. The lack of a ring doesn't always mean anything."

"Dating—Chakotay?" Kathryn asked.

"You're not?" Carol asked.

"I'm a Starfleet captain," Kathryn said. "And—until I get my ship home? I'm always going to be a captain first. I don't—get to be anything else."

"Is that some kind of law for your Starfleet?" Carol asked.

"Not exactly," Kathryn said. "But—the crew counts on me. They expect me to be impartial. To make unbiased judgments. To do what's best for everyone. Nobody expects their captain to have a personal life. At least—not while they're on a mission."

Carol considered it a moment. Her mind was practically swimming with the realization that she'd been wrong. That Daryl had been wrong. Now, though, her gut clenched for a different reason. In the very little time that she'd known Kathryn, she'd come think of her as a friend. Now she was finding out that, maybe, the woman wasn't even supposed to be her friend. If what she said was true, it seemed she had no right to anything but servitude and solitude.

"But—you're on the ship for like…seventy years," Carol said.

"I know," Kathryn said, at least a little mournfully. A half smile turned up the corner of her mouth after she seemed lost in thought for a second. "You really thought we were married?"

Carol laughed to herself simply at Kathryn's slight burst of amusement and not because she found any humor in the feelings she was still sorting through.

"Don't act like it's so ridiculous," Carol said. "You—thought Daryl and I were together."

"You're not?" Kathryn asked. She looked as surprised as Carol felt to find out that she and Chakotay were not together.

Carol's heart fluttered a little in her chest with the anxiety of facing speaking a truth that might not be a whole truth just yet.

"I'm not entirely certain what we are," she offered. "But we weren't together. Not until—the fever."


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**Just letting you know that I did write one yesterday that I'm not sure many people read. You might want to see if you missed that one before reading this one. **

**I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl winced when Chakotay hit the orange alien hard enough to slam it into the ropes and down to the mat.

"Hey! You wanna—talk about it or…somethin'?" Daryl asked, coming closer to the ring. He'd meant to ask Chakotay about becoming some type of official-sounding crew member, even if it was simply a position created for someone who came from three hundred years in the past. That was how he'd ended up here. Chakotay said he had the morning off, and Daryl had the morning off since B'Elanna was on the same shift as Chakotay and Daryl always shadowed her, so Chakotay had invited Daryl to follow him on his recreation time.

He'd brought him to what was, apparently, the ship's gym. It was complete with a boxing ring, though, and an orange alien had been there, waiting on them, to fight with Chakotay.

"You want to have a heart-to-heart, Daryl?" Chakotay asked, clearly with some amusement. He smirked to himself even as he prepared to land another solid punch on the sorry orange bastard that should have stayed down but chose to get up instead.

"If it's gonna stop you beatin' the shit outta that guy—yeah," Daryl said. "Fuck—I'll listen to whatever the hell you got on your mind. Ain't gonna braid your hair and shit, but I can listen pretty damn good."

"Computer, delete opponent," Chakotay announced. Almost immediately the orange alien evaporated.

"Did you kill him?" Daryl asked.

Chakotay laughed.

He crawled out of the ring. He gestured to some benches and Daryl followed him to sit with him.

"He was a simulation," Chakotay said. "He wasn't real. These are the holodecks. We create and run programs here for training or leisure. You can create a program with anything you want. B'Elanna could help you. She does a beautiful job with holodeck programs."

"So, none of this is real?" Daryl asked.

"It's real as in—you can interact with everything here. You can touch it. You can eat the food and drink the beverages. It's like your imagination has come to life," Chakotay said.

"Can you get me an ashtray?" Daryl asked. "With your imagination?"

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"Computer, produce an ashtray," Chakotay offered into the air. The computer was much more obedient to Chakotay's commands than it tended to be to Daryl's. It produced an ashtray on the floor near them. Chakotay bent over, picked it up, and offered it to Daryl. Daryl turned it over in his hand. It seemed as real as any ashtray he'd ever used before. He lit a cigarette, resting the ashtray on the bench between them, and offered Chakotay a cigarette. "I don't smoke," Chakotay said.

"Maybe you should," Daryl said. "Takes the edge off with what the hell you call a heart-to-heart." Chakotay hesitated, but Daryl pushed the pack toward him again and laughed. "You makin' me feel like I'm teachin' you to smoke out behind the damned school. Just take a cigarette. I'd tell you to conjure us up a few beers, but…I don't know how I feel about drinking imaginary shit."

"Computer, two glasses of beer," Chakotay said.

His command was granted. Daryl eyed the drinks as Chakotay offered him one of the glasses.

"It ain't real," Daryl said.

"It's real," Chakotay said. "Just try it."

"And what about when I go into work and B'Elanna has a fit because I drank a beer before she has me learning about her bio-neural gel packs?" Daryl asked.

"If you've learned that much already, you'll be fine in a few hours when we go in for our shift. But—do you want one without alcohol?" Chakotay asked.

Daryl tasted the beer. It was cold and perfect. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a cold beer.

"This'll do fine," he said. "So, what the hell's got you beatin' the shit outta the damned orange imaginary friend you made?"

"I come here almost every time I have a break. It's my place to blow off steam," Chakotay said. "From—anything."

"I used to do that," Daryl said. "Not come here. Not even fight. I just mean I had a place. My brother—I feel like sometimes he used to pick fights to blow off steam. He'da done better to have imaginary people to fight with. I used to like to—go outside. Go to the woods. I liked to hunt, but…really? I weren't always hunting when I was out there. Sometimes I just liked to go and be out there. It was like the world made sense in the woods. It was nicer out there. Maybe because there weren't that many assholes around to piss me off."

Chakotay laughed at Daryl's joke and Daryl laughed, too.

"My father would have loved you," Chakotay said. "He was always disappointed that I didn't connect with nature, the way that he wanted me to, while I was young. He took me out so often to try to teach me about our ancestors. Our people. I didn't really respect the lessons and honor him properly until he'd passed. I was a disappointment to him in some ways, I know."

"Hell—if we're gonna talk about shitty old men—or disappointin' old men—I might need another beer or twelve," Daryl offered.

"You were a disappointment to your father?" Chakotay asked.

"From the first time my mama even knew she was pregnant, probably," Daryl offered. "But—is it an asshole thing of me to say I'd rather leave that shit on Earth?"

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"We're in the Delta Quadrant," Chakotay said. "I'd say you get to make the choice to leave it on Earth. If only it were really that easy, sometimes, to leave our pasts behind. But—my father would say that the past is vital. You should learn from the past."

"Can I ask you a—well, a kinda maybe asshole question?" Daryl asked.

"Only if I can return the favor sometime," Chakotay challenged.

"Fair enough," Daryl offered. "You talk about your people. Who were they? Like—Cherokee? Navajo or somethin'?"

Chakotay smiled to himself.

"My people were descendants of the Rubber Tree people of Earth's Central America," Chakotay said.

"That's where you got the tattoo?" Daryl asked.

"I got it to honor my father," Chakotay said.

"I wanted to forget my old man, not tattoo a memory of him on my face," Daryl said with a laugh. "No offense, man."

"None taken," Chakotay assured him. "My father would have appreciated having you as a son, if it's any consolation."

"Yeah," Daryl said, accepting the words for what they meant—a kindness offered. "My brother used to say we were like—like descended from Cherokee. Like a grandpa or somethin'. I don't know if it was true, but I really wanted that shit to be true. I used to read about 'em. Watch documentaries about 'em. Learn their stories, you know? Legends. I liked learning about their art and how they like—just did shit. Like everyday shit. How to make arrowheads and…" He stopped. Chakotay was listening to him very intently and he stopped. "That probably sounds pretty bad to somebody like you who's like—like a real Native American, right? Some asshole shit to say."

"On the contrary," Chakotay offered sincerely, before he took a long swallow from his drink and lit the cigarette that he'd been holding until then. Daryl bit the inside of his mouth at the displeased expression that the man showed over the cigarette. He continued to smoke it, however, perhaps as a show of solidarity. "There is no shame in wanting to learn the ways of other people and cultures. It's what helps us grow and learn about one another. It's what fosters peace and understanding. It's one of the reasons that I became a xenoanthropologist."

"A what?" Daryl asked.

Chakotay laughed.

"I dedicated a lot of my time to studying other cultures," Chakotay said. "In search of—something I'm not sure I ever found."

"The hell's that?" Daryl asked.

"Peace," Chakotay offered blankly.

"Three hundred fuckin' years in the future and we don't have peace—it's 'cause we won't never. Not like—not on some big scale."

"I think most of the time I've just been searching for peace for myself," Chakotay said. "Something personal that—I needed."

The comment struck Daryl. It resonated with him in a way that he might try to blame on the beer, but there was no need trying to lie about it.

"I hear what you're sayin'," he offered, not bothering to elaborate on it more.

"I've turned to my father's teachings in search of guidance to find that peace," Chakotay said. "And to try to reach out to him and seek his forgiveness and guidance."

"Does he give it to you?" Daryl asked.

"Sometimes," Chakotay said.

"Then he's a good old man to come through for you from—from like beyond the grave or whatever," Daryl said. "Personally, I'm more than happy to leave my old man where the hell he is. Still—if you ever wanna, you know, talk any about your people or whatever? I'd like to hear some of it."

Chakotay smiled at him.

"I'd be happy to share with you what I know," Chakotay said. "My father would be happy to know I'm sharing it, as well. His hope was always that my sister and I would share it with our children. If I ever had children, I would want to share the ways of my people with them. I would want to honor my father's memory, but I don't think that I would want to push them in the same way that he pushed me. I wouldn't want them to feel like—like I disapproved of them if they weren't exactly like me. Like I imagined them to be. I would want them to always think of me as someone who supported them. Who—made them learn and made them strong, but who supported them and who wasn't ever disappointed in them."

"I think we all do that," Daryl said. "I mean—imagine how we'd be different than our parents." Chakotay hummed. Daryl searched for something to say. He felt like there was still something on Chakotay's mind. He didn't feel at all that Chakotay had just come down here to engage in some kind of practice that he must have done a thousand times before. "You and Kathryn gonna—you know—do that now?"

"Do what?" Chakotay asked, furrowing his brow. He looked like Daryl had snatched him out of a pretty deep daydream.

Daryl laughed to himself. Maybe he shouldn't have brought it up, but it was too late now.

"You know—she announced last night that havin' kids is like important to the ship," Daryl said. "A new generation or whatever."

"Having children—producing a new generation—is crucial to the ship," Chakotay said. "We won't make it back without another generation."

Daryl hummed.

"That's what she said," Daryl said. "So, I mean—I was just askin' if you were gonna do that now. Have kids and all to help produce the new generation. It seems like you might be open to it, so…hell, I was just askin'. Forget it. It really ain't none of my business."

He drank more of the beer in one gulp than he meant to drink, but he suddenly felt like he needed to wash down his embarrassment. He couldn't quite explain the severity of Chakotay's expression other than to imagine that he'd overstepped some boundary of their newly budding friendship and offended the man.

But, then, Chakotay laughed.

"Are you asking about—the captain and me?" Chakotay asked. "Having children—together?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Who the hell else would y'all be havin' 'em with?" Daryl asked. "Or is that somethin' that's real popular these days?"

Chakotay laughed to himself a moment. He seemed to really enjoy the laughter, so Daryl let him have it, even though he was a bit annoyed that he felt like the man was laughing at his stupidity when he really had no way of knowing how things worked in this particular day and time.

When Chakotay got his laughter out, he shook his head, made a face at his attempt to take another draw off the cigarette, and snubbed out the cigarette before he washed his mouth out with beer and spoke.

"The captain and I are not in a relationship," Chakotay said.

"What do you mean?" Daryl asked.

"I mean—we're not in a relationship," Chakotay said. "Is there some other terminology from Earth? We aren't together. And—if Kathryn Janeway has anything to do with it, we probably never will be."

From the slightly bitter tone in Chakotay's voice, Daryl immediately understood what it was that had him down here beating the shit out of orange aliens. Instantly, Daryl felt his stomach respond—his gut telling him that he was right.

"You ever been together?" Daryl asked. "We thought you were married."

Chakotay laughed, some irritation coming through in his voice.

"We're not married," he said. "We're—I guess we're nothing. I'm her first officer. She's my captain. It's strictly business."

"She turned you down?" Daryl asked.

"To turn me down," Chakotay offered, "she would have had to listen to my proposition and refuse it. She doesn't even grant me that."

"Shit's rough," Daryl offered after a moment of silence passed between them. Chakotay hummed in agreement.

"How long have you and Carol been married?" Chakotay asked.

Daryl laughed to himself. He scratched at the back of his neck.

"We ain't," he said. Chakotay looked at him and furrowed his brow in confusion.

"But you're—together?" Chakotay asked.

Daryl laughed to himself, anxiety suddenly gnawing ravenously at his stomach.

"I guess. Maybe you could say that. Thanks to your solar flu or whatever."

"You mean—just now?" Chakotay asked.

"Been a couple hours now," Daryl offered. "Not to get too damned personal. Good damn thing, though. I mean—I been thinkin' about it for years. Couldn't figure out how or…when…or even if she would, you know, want that with me."

"But she did?" Chakotay asked.

Daryl hummed. His heart beat wildly in his chest. He smiled to himself, his face growing warm, as he thought about it—truly thought about it—for the first time since they'd been together.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "She did. Even—this morning."

Chakotay laughed.

"Even this morning," he mused.

"How long you—been wantin' Kathryn?" Daryl asked. "If—that's not too personal to ask. In light of—what the hell I just told you."

"Almost two years now," Chakotay mused. Daryl laughed and Chakotay pressed him to tell him what he was laughing about.

"I waited like ten fuckin' years," Daryl said. "So—hell, maybe no don't mean no for good. Maybe it just means no for right now." He laughed to himself. "Maybe the right fuckin' flu ain't come along yet."


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**I have recently posted two more here, so please make sure that you've read them before you get here.**

**I really appreciate everyone's support and enthusiasm over this story. I love it, so I'm so happy to hear from you and know that you're loving it, too! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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"It's a system with a yellow dwarf star," Kathryn said. "There are seven planets in the system, but the third planet is the only M class planet. It looks very comparable to Earth. Commander Chakotay, are you listening?"

The truth was that Chakotay had been listening. He'd heard every word she'd said, but still he felt somewhat distracted. Distant.

"I'm sorry, Captain," he said. "I was listening."

"Are you certain?" Kathryn asked. "It looked like you were daydreaming."

She smiled at him. He almost hated that smile because, really, he loved it. There was so much mischief in it, and she relaxed a little, putting her elbows on her desk and resting her face on her hands.

"It's the fever," Chakotay offered. "It hasn't broken yet."

Kathryn sighed and sat back in her chair, still obviously relaxed—or maybe simply exhausted to the point of no longer being able to appear high strung in the least.

"It hasn't broken entirely for anyone yet—Ensign Vorik aside. Kes is recovering well. The doctor says the elogium was likely a false elogium. It never progressed to the final stages for conception, so it's likely that she'll go through the real thing in a year or two—when she should," Kathryn said. "Everyone else is waiting for it to pass and the doctor's handling anything he needs to take care of as various species go through some mating rituals of their own."

Chakotay hummed and nodded.

"I've noticed that many of the crewmembers have heeded your words about—seeking companionship and working toward a future generation," Chakotay said. He wondered if his words sounded as dead to her as they felt to him. She frowned and furrowed her brows, so she must have detected something.

"Have you slept, Commander?" Kathryn asked.

"I could ask you the same thing, Captain," Chakotay responded.

"Understood," Kathryn said, without fully explaining what she understood. Was it his tone that she understood? Was it his assertion that she should sleep at some point and care for herself properly, especially since she wouldn't allow him to care for her the way that he wanted? Was it the fact that he practically felt heartbroken over the fact that she wouldn't allow him to care for her the way that he wanted?

He breached none of those topics. That wasn't what she'd called him into her ready room to speak about. It wasn't what she wanted to discuss. It wasn't what had kept her up when she was supposed to have been resting in her quarters.

Only a few hours before, Daryl and Chakotay had been talking in the holodeck. Immediately, they'd both left there and gone to work at the changing of the skeleton crew.

They were travelling very quickly away from the anomaly that had caused the fever. As they moved away from it, everyone was starting to show signs of the fever fading. The assumption that some compound in the anomaly was causing the problem must have been correct. They weren't slowing, yet, because they wanted to be far enough away that the crew could be entirely unaffected. Though, hopefully, some of the effects would still linger now that they were truly committing to thinking about the future of Voyager and the fact that they would need to train a replacement crew to truly make it back to the Alpha Quadrant without something that somehow shortened their trip drastically.

As they'd moved away from the anomaly with a course change, though, something else had shown up on their sensors. And, as they continued to race away from the anomaly, their sensor readings had gotten clearer and clearer. They were nearing a planetary system. That, in itself, might not be too fascinating, but an M class planet was always something they were pleased to see.

"The planet, Captain," Chakotay said, drawing Kathryn back to what she'd been eager to discuss. "It's an M class?"

"Very comparable to Earth according to our readings," Kathryn said. "The atmosphere is almost exactly the same."

"Life signs?" Chakotay asked.

"At this distance, no," Kathryn said. "At least—nothing humanoid. We're picking up readings that suggest a great deal of plant life and some animal life, but we're getting nothing humanoid."

"At this distance," Chakotay said, more for his own musing that for any real need of clarification. Kathryn hummed at him, regardless, to clear up anything that he might need cleared up.

"We were hoping to find something we could convert into energy in that anomaly," Kathryn said. "We're not depleted—not by any stretch of the imagination—but we also don't want to use everything we've got."

"You think the planet might have something to offer," Chakotay offered.

"I think it's worth exploring," Kathryn said. "We're running some scans on the other planets in the system, as well, just to make sure that we aren't missing any potential energy sources. The M class planet could offer us a place to land, though. B'Elanna's been complaining about repairs and how spending so many years outside of space-dock means that we're so limited in what we can do to handle basic maintenance and upkeep for Voyager's exterior."

"Landing on an M class planet would mean that we can address those maintenance issues," Chakotay said, "without using extra resources, that we don't have, for atmosphere control."

Kathryn hummed and nodded.

"And it would give the crew a chance to stretch their legs," Kathryn said. "Breathe some fresh air. Some might even want to go camping. We haven't had true R and R for years, and the crew is well overdue."

Chakotay smiled to himself.

"I have to admit," he said. "That even sounds good to me."

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"Me too," she said. "As long as we dedicate some of the R and R time to searching for and acquiring possible resources, and to making necessary repairs, I think we can take that time for ourselves and our crew without feeling guilty about losing the travel time."

"A little camping trip might be good for the future generation of Voyager, as well," Chakotay offered. Immediately, he felt ashamed of saying it. He felt ashamed that his mind was never too far from wandering back to the things he wanted most—and couldn't help but think about. The fever hadn't entirely passed yet. It hadn't broken. He could feel it in the dryness of his throat, the warmth of his skin, and the slightly dizzy feeling that he got if he closed his eyes too long or moved his head too quickly.

Kathryn, apparently, was set to forgive him.

She smiled, perhaps even a little forlornly, and nodded.

"There's that, too," she said.

Chakotay was struck. He thought he detected something like a hint of sadness in her voice. He quickly pushed it out of his mind, though.

"The crew will welcome the opportunity," Chakotay said. "What would you like me to do to prepare, Captain?"

"I want a small crew to beam down first," Kathryn said. "We'll be able to take better readings, make sure that everything's safe, scout out a good location to land if we're going to go through with repairs, and get a rough idea of whether or not we'll find much that we can use on the planet's surface."

Chakotay smiled to himself.

"From what you're saying, am I correct in assuming that you intend to be part of the exploration party, Captain?"

Kathryn smiled.

"I do," she said. "I would like the chance to see the planet, and I'd rather go myself than send my crew down there."

"No good captain ever sends their crew where they wouldn't go," Chakotay said, reciting words that he'd heard a thousand times before. "May I ask permission to beam down?"

Kathryn's features softened. Her smile, this time, was the kind of smile that made Chakotay's heart beat more rapidly in his chest than it normally did. It was warm enough that he was almost certain the expression could have melted ice, and he was never sure what he did to deserve it.

"I would have insisted you go with me, Commander," Kathryn said. "I will value your opinions and, since it appears to be an uncivilized and unpopulated planet, I will value some of your skills, as well."

Chakotay nodded.

"If we're assembling a crew based on skills," Chakotay said, "which I entirely agree that we should, could I make some recommendations as to who our other crew members should be?"

Now the smile changed. The mischief came back, since that's always how Chakotay saw it. The corner of her lip curled upward.

"I'm almost certain that I know who you're going to say," Kathryn said. "But I'd like to know we're thinking the same. What are your suggestions?"

"I have three," Chakotay said. Kathryn hummed and just barely nodded her head to urge him to continue speaking. "Ensign Reynolds," Chakotay said.

Kathryn raised her eyebrow at him.

"That's an interesting choice," Kathryn said. "And not at all one of the choices that I was expecting."

"She studied raw material conversion extensively," Chakotay said. "She studied biology, raw material conversion, and her hobbies have included botany."

There was clearly approval on Kathryn's features.

"All of her interests, then, make her an exceptional addition to an away team that's going to assess whether or not this planet's going to offer us some things that we'll find useful," Kathryn said.

"We'll all be able to judge the flora and the fauna, especially when it comes to bringing things onboard for airponics, but she could have some extra, valuable input on whether or not we can expect to find any resources," Chakotay clarified. "In addition, Ensign Reynolds reported that she had never been a long tour before, and had very little actual field study since her time in the Academy. This could be a learning experience for her, and it could be some good training under her belt."

"I'm convinced," Kathryn said. "Ensign Reynolds will beam down with us. Now—I believe that I can guess your other two suggestions. Unless, of course, you're about to surprise me again."

Chakotay laughed to himself. He leaned and put his palms on the edge of Kathryn's desk when she leaned forward like he was going to share some great secret with her.

"I don't think I'll surprise you," Chakotay said. "It's an M class planet where, possibly, no human life has ever existed. We could imagine it's a veritable wilderness." Kathryn nodded in agreement. "If that's the case, I think the two best people that we can take with us are two people who know how to survive in some of the roughest conditions that mankind has known in around a thousand years. They'll be some of our greatest assets when it comes to judging the planet and judging whether or not the crew will want to—or even be able to—stay there, off the ship, for any amount of time while we work on repairs. Besides that, it might do them some good to stretch their legs, breathe that fresh air, and see that there is something beyond the walls of a starship three hundred years into their future."

"I couldn't think of anyone better to take," Kathryn said. "I don't want a larger crew than that, though. Not for beam-down. I think five is plenty. We'll take the readings we need, do the exploring we need to do, and then we'll report back to Voyager before she lands. If everything checks out, everyone gets to leave the ship, but I don't want to risk taking too many more people down at the start."

"Understood," Chakotay said. "Should I gather the beam-down crew for briefing?"

"Give me time to discuss things with Tuvok," Kathryn said. "He'll act as captain while we're on the surface. In the meantime, you can speak to them briefly about things. We'll meet more formally once I've had time to finalize everything else. Send them to sickbay and speak to the doctor. I know he hadn't quite finished everything with Daryl and Carol. I want everyone's inoculations up to date. After the fever, you might ask him about any kind of treatments we might require to make sure that everyone is strong and well. If we're going exploring in the wilderness, we're all going with a clean bill of health."

"The captain included," Chakotay urged.

"Of course," Kathryn said.

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"Forgive me, Captain, but you sometimes have a habit of skipping your medical examinations."

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"I'll be there before we beam down," she assured him. "If our sensor readings are correct, we have two days before we're in orbit."

"There will be time for you to get some sleep, then, I'm sure," Chakotay said. "Everyone should be well and strong when we beam down."

Kathryn came around her desk and rested her hand affectionately on Chakotay's chest as she often did. He was almost sure that she could feel his pulse pick up. Even the light touch of her hand was too much today.

It was the fever. It hadn't passed entirely yet.

"I promise, Commander," Kathryn said, "that I'll take a nap—just as soon as I speak to Tuvok and brief our beam-down crew."

"Good," Chakotay said.

"And—Commander?" Kathryn said. Chakotay hummed at her. His heart drummed to the point that he wondered if the doctor would tell him that the organ was malfunctioning. He couldn't help but glance at her lips a second before he brought his eyes back to hers. She smiled softly. "Thank you."

"For what, Captain?" Chakotay asked.

"Everything," Kathryn said. "But—I guess I meant…your concern."

"Any time, Captain," Chakotay said. "All the time."

His heart pounded. It wished for words his ears knew they wouldn't hear. Something flickered across Kathryn's features and got lost, again, in the fatigue and the hint of sadness that had landed there before so many times.

"Dismissed, Commander," she said softly and with very little command behind the words. "We've got a lot of work to do."


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I ask that my fellow-Trekkie friends forgive me for my pseudo-science. LOL**

**I also want to let you know that if you've missed the several updates that I've done, you will want to go back and make sure you're caught up before reading this chapter!**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"What the hell is all this you're givin' us?" Daryl asked, hovering close to Carol.

Ensign Connie Reynolds had been delighted to be asked to join the away team. She'd been the first in sickbay and, as soon as the doctor had given her a clean bill of health, she'd immediately headed for the science lab to gather the materials they would need for their initial inspection of the planet.

Chakotay had already been given his clean bill of health—other than the slight lingering effects of the fever that would plague everyone for at least another day or two, but was considered harmless by the doctor—and he hung close by to keep an eye on things since the doctor still believed Daryl to be annoyingly unpredictable, and Kes was on a temporary leave to rest after the anomaly induced elogium. He'd asked Daryl and Carol if they minded him staying—and if they saw it as a breach of privacy—but neither of them had seemed bothered in the slightest. Of course, he'd also allowed them to be present for his physical, so perhaps they saw it as something of a case of quid pro quo.

Daryl had insisted on going first, as he always did, to be sure that whatever was happening to them was safe. It was clear that he had an unapologetic dislike to the hypospray, and updating his inoculations had proved an annoyance that practically had him ready to fight since, Chakotay imagined, the hissing sound startled him every time. He clearly didn't like the element of surprise in any environment.

Daryl had received his clean bill of health, though, and now he hovered around Carol as she waited her turn to be inoculated and scanned for a quick check of her overall health.

"I have no health records on you," the doctor said. "But I can access historical databases enough to know how many things you would be susceptible to, given that you're coming from an entirely different time period. The inoculations will help ensure that you will not become ill with anything that can easily be avoided."

Carol was less startled by the hissing of the hypospray, and she sat and waited as the doctor updated her to a point with which he was satisfied.

He ran the medical tricorder over her, and Daryl walked around him to try to look over his shoulder at the machine. The doctor glared briefly at Daryl before stepping so that he blocked his view.

"How do you even know what all that means?" Daryl asked.

"It's part of my program," the doctor said, irritation showing through in his voice. "And anyone can be trained to read a tricorder."

"I'd like to learn to read one," Daryl offered.

"Some other time," the doctor said with the same tone that he might use to dismiss a child. Daryl furrowed his brows at the hologram like he might argue with him, or even simply scold him for treating him rudely, but it was clear that he decided to let it go.

"She OK?" Daryl asked.

The doctor smiled to himself and then smiled at Carol.

"Other than a touch of the fever, she's in perfect health," the doctor said. "The regeneration work that I did when you first arrived shows no signs of damage or decay. You take very good care of yourself."

Carol laughed quietly.

"It's not like it's hard to take care of ourselves here," she offered. "We have food and water whenever we want it. We can sleep without—without worrying about what's going to happen to us."

"I can see some damage on your lungs, Mr. Dixon," the doctor said. "Since my regeneration work. It's likely from the habit of smoking. I can repair the damage easily, but you could save us both trouble by giving up the habit."

Daryl crossed his arms across his chest.

"Regeneration work? Repair the damage?" He questioned, clearly ticking off what he simply didn't understand. He purposefully ignored the doctor's recommendation that he stop smoking.

Chakotay stepped forward.

"A great deal has taken place in medicine since your time," Chakotay said. "We're able to repair organs. Re-grow them, even, in most circumstances."

"You mean like—you get cancer or somethin' and you just grow a new lung?" Daryl asked.

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"Many times, yes. It works that way."

"It's a little more involved than that, Commander," the doctor offered.

"That's the gist of it," Chakotay said. "Cancer was once a serious disease. Now it's all but been eradicated. And, if you do get cancer, it's nothing more serious to treat than a relatively minor illness."

"Many of the illnesses that plagued people of your time have been eradicated," the doctor said. "That is one of the reasons that I did as much regeneration work on both of you as I could when the Araulians brought you onboard the ship. Both of you were suffering from evidence of past illnesses and injuries, so my work did both of you good, but it also allowed me to cleanse your systems of the Millennium Plague and any other illnesses that you might have brought onto the ship."

"Without treatment," Chakotay said, "you might have started a plague or two of your own on Voyager. Most of us are naturally immune to many of the things that were common during your time, but there are other things that have been dead for quite some time. It could be possible that we would have difficulty fighting them off. We immediately placed you both in containment fields, filtered the air from any contamination you may have released into the ship's atmosphere during the few moments between when the Araulians released you from their field and when we were able to contain you, and the doctor performed regenerative work to restore your health and inoculated you against illness that you would be susceptible to. The treatments were as much for your good as they were for ours."

"So, you're saying our whole bodies are—new?" Carol asked.

"Not exactly," Chakotay said. "But—much of your body is newer than it used to be. It's theoretically younger than it used to be."

"There you go," the doctor mused. "Grossly oversimplifying."

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"Unless you're seeking a medical degree, Doctor, the oversimplification will do to answer their questions."

Chakotay had the absolutely full attention of Carol and Daryl. Carol hadn't moved from the biobed, and Daryl had moved to stand closer to her. The doctor assumed his work was done and stepped away to do what he needed to do with his equipment.

"So, does that mean people don't die anymore?" Daryl asked.

"Unfortunately," Chakotay said, "people die every day. Perhaps they don't die quite as frequently as they did during your time, but they do die regularly. We're not immortal."

"But couldn't you just—make a new body when yours wore out?" Daryl asked.

"There are limitations," Chakotay said. "People die, it simply means that they don't die as quickly as they once did. The change in medicine also means that people don't exist on the same timeline that they once considered normal. You're not in quite the hurry to do things just for the ancient concept of running out of time, so to speak."

"How long do we live?" Carol asked.

"If my history is correct," Chakotay said, "then the lifespan of a seventy-year-old in your time would be roughly comparable to a 120-year-old in our current time. Of course—some people die very young, for one reason or another, while others live to be even 140 or 150. A great deal of it is genetics."

"As it always has been," the doctor offered, coming back over to simply gather up something he'd forgotten, and needed, for whatever work he was doing. He couldn't resist making himself part of the conversation. "Of course, a lot of it is always going to be how one cares for oneself. And we cannot discredit the incredible strides made in science and medicine."

"Thank you, Doctor," Chakotay offered.

"That's why—we feel better," Carol mused. "I feel better. Much better. I've been noticing it just—here and there. That's why."

"It may have something to do with it," Chakotay ceded.

"Does that mean we'll live as long as you will?" Carol asked. "Are we going to live to be 120 years old?"

"You may," Chakotay said. "You may live to be far older than that. I think the oldest human recorded—at least before we left the Alpha Quadrant—lived to be about 174. As I said, a lot will depend on your genetics. But—barring unforeseen accidents or things like that—you will likely live to be somewhere around 120 or 130."

"Wait a minute," Daryl said. "How are we supposed to know this shit is even true? It's not like we can see it. I can't see if I got new lungs or a new liver or whatever. Who's to say that you ain't just lyin' about it?"

"Daryl," Carol chided quietly.

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"I'm not certain what I—or anyone else, for that matter—would gain by lying about such an issue. Still, you are correct. There's nothing you can do to really see, for yourself, that what we're saying is true. Just like, in the past, if you'd gone in to have your gallbladder removed, you would have had to take the word of your physician that such an operation was actually performed."

Daryl seemed satisfied as he chewed over that response.

Chakotay enjoyed talking to the man. The more he got to know him, the more he appreciated Daryl's inquisitive nature. Even B'Elanna had mentioned it. He learned quickly. He absorbed information well. And he wanted to know more. He always wanted to know more. He wanted to understand everything around him at a level that was deep enough that he could consider the knowledge truly his—something he possessed, instead of only knew at the surface level.

Carol was inquisitive, too, but Chakotay couldn't help but notice that she was a bit different in her inquisitiveness. She accepted a lot of things as truth—science, medicine, technology. She seemed to see the advances in front of her as reasonable and to be expected. They didn't alarm her. She was inquisitive, though, about the species around her. The lifestyles. The planets. The way that society thought and functioned three hundred years beyond her time.

In addition, Chakotay felt like she was always "seeing" something from the way he caught her, out the corner of his eye, looking at the beings and things around her. She was friendly, warm, and everything they could want her to be, but she was always observing.

They were both observant. Their survival skills would make them wonderful candidates for away missions, but Chakotay could imagine that it would be their observation skills—in all walks of life—that would serve them best as they lived out their lives on Voyager and helped in the many ways they could.

"If I'm so new, though," Daryl offered, "then why is it that nothing about me looks new? Or even younger? If I'ma live to be 120 years old, then I'm a whole lot younger than I used to be."

"You're the same age you were," Chakotay offered. "You'll only live longer. A child is still a child for a finite amount of time. That hasn't changed. Unless—of course—we're discussing different species or people who are, essentially, hybrids of different species. But—if it's your appearance that concerns you, there's plenty that the doctor could offer you."

"Like plastic surgery?" Carol asked.

Chakotay hummed.

"It's much simpler and more effective than it used to be," Chakotay offered. "It's the same idea, however. It uses basically the same technology that we used to heal the burns you suffered from the Araulian weapons."

"For instance," the doctor offered, moving closer to both of them again, and pretending to look for something when, clearly, he simply couldn't stand to be left out of a conversation for too long, "I was concerned that you two would be much harder on your bodies given the amount of trauma you've both clearly suffered in your lifetimes. You've proved, however, not to be nearly as accident prone as I had feared."

"There's not much here that tries to hurt us," Carol offered.

"Still, your bodies were so riddled with scars, that I wasn't sure to what I should contribute everything," the doctor said. Chakotay noticed that both Carol and Daryl dropped their eyes. He didn't have to know too much about them to know that the scars in question were, more than likely, tender subjects for them both.

"Where the scars came from doesn't matter," Chakotay offered quickly.

"Not at all," the doctor said. "Except that—answering some of my questions with a bit less reluctance and a bit more honesty and completeness would certainly help to complete your medical charts."

"Maybe some other time," Chakotay said. "I believe we were talking about cosmetic dermal regeneration, Doctor?"

"I had the option of removing the scarring from your bodies," the doctor said, picking back up with the topic that interested Carol and Daryl instead of making both of them divert their eyes from everything and everyone around them.

"It was Captain Janeway who suggested that the doctor not remove your scars," Chakotay said. "Even now, some people choose to keep certain scars for different reasons. Sometimes it's an aesthetic choice. Something they appreciate in the scar. Other times it's because the scar is tied to a memory or a particular life lesson. She knew that the doctor could remove your scars at any time, if you wanted them removed, but she wanted you to be able to make such a choice."

"You can just—erase them?" Daryl asked.

"If you should so desire," the doctor said. "However—it will require your cooperation, Mr. Dixon. And a good deal less fidgeting if you would like me to remove them."

"You have plenty of time to think about it," Chakotay said when he saw that Carol was no more comfortable with the conversation than she had been minutes before. "You can do something like that at any time, if you decide it interests you. For the time being, though, it's important that we go find Ensign Reynolds and report to the briefing room. Now that everyone has a clean bill of health, Captain Janeway will want to fill everyone in on the plan for the mission."


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I am so excited; I can see all my fellow J/C lovers gearing up for the third planet of seven in a system with a yellow dwarf star. LOL **

**And I'm excited, too, because all of my Carylers know that we're headed toward a just the right kind of place for Carol and Daryl to really make themselves useful to our Captain and First Officer.**

**More than anything, I'm super excited that I can share both my favorite OTPs with everyone! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. I'm hoping for another one (or two) this weekend. We'll have beamed down in the next chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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The door to their quarters had barely hissed closed behind them before Daryl came toward Carol to steal another kiss. She smiled to herself—smiled against his kisses and earned a smile from him—as he walked her toward their bedroom, stealing kisses as they went.

Carol had dreamed about being with Daryl for so long that it seemed like second nature. She'd imagined a thousand times what kind of lover he might be. She'd imagined him as being just about every possible kind of lover that there was.

She'd thought he might be tentative and nervous. From what she could tell, he kept a certain amount of distance from most people. He wasn't unfriendly at all, but he only allowed people to get to a certain level of depth with him. It was clear that he carefully picked and chose what he would share with others, and he gauged how much more you would get from him, in the future, based on how you reacted to what he chose to tell you. It could take some time to really get to know Daryl. Carol had never seen him show any interest in any female—even when she'd tried to push him into it because she knew a woman might be willing. She expected, then, that he might have little or no experience.

She still suspected that Daryl had little experience with women—if he had any beyond the enthusiastic night they'd spent together—but he wasn't tentative. He was eager.

Maybe the fever was still driving him, but he was absolutely driven.

Carol had never had a man make her feel so desirable before.

Still, she stopped him as he started to tug at her clothes in a clear attempt to work her out of them.

"Somethin' wrong?" He asked, panting a little from having spent much of his breath kissing her and trying to speed things along.

"The doctor said the fever's still there," Carol said.

"Said a touch," Daryl said. He backed up a little, hands going to her shoulders, and examined her as his eyes did a quick scan of her body from her face to the floor. "Why? You feel bad or something?"

She smiled at him. She smiled at his soft concern.

"I was only wondering if—if the fever makes us feel some way, do you think you'll still feel that way when it's gone?" Carol asked.

Carol was immensely glad for what Daryl did next.

Rather than simply dismissing her words with an enthusiastic nod of his head or another hungry lunge for her lips, he squeezed her shoulders, furrowed his brow, and slowly nodded his head, more in consideration of her question than in response to it. He dropped his hands, then, and walked over to where he left his ashtray every time that he cleaned it. He lit a cigarette, and took both the cigarette and the ashtray with him as he went into their little living room area. Carol followed him and sat beside him, without his asking, when he sat down on the couch.

She let him have his silence to consider what she'd said—to really consider it—and she appreciated that he was taking both the silence and the time.

She wasn't interested in simply hearing what she wanted to hear. She was only interested in hearing the truth. This was serious to her, and she needed him to take it seriously.

After a moment, he scratched the side of his mouth with the thumb of the hand that held his cigarette, and he hummed in his throat.

"I weren't lyin' when I said I'd been waitin' forever to—to be with you," Daryl said. "Never knew what to say or how to say it. Never knew if you…felt the same way."

"You should've asked," Carol said. "I…" She dropped off and didn't finish.

"You never said anything neither," Daryl offered. "And first it was like…how long do I wait after Ed, you know? What's right in that situation? Nobody ever taught me that. That weren't how Merle went about things. Besides—I didn't wanna fuck it up for good. You know? He only ever give a shit about right then. Not—not like I was thinking."

"I don't think Ed deserved my mourning," Carol offered.

Daryl laughed nervously.

"Didn't know what to do," he said. "And then—Sophia. How the hell was I gonna say what I was hopin' when you were dealin' with…with losin' her?"

"I needed it more then than…" Carol said, but she couldn't finish that either. Daryl's shoulders slumped a little and Carol reached and rested her hand on his back. She rubbed his back.

"I didn't know what to do," Daryl said. "And there was always somethin' goin' on. Every time I was just about ready to say somethin', there was somethin' else that come up. You'd be gone. Figuratively or literally, Carol, you were always gone when I got to that point. And then Tobin."

"Please don't remind me," Carol offered.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"And then the great king," Daryl said.

"I thought you weren't going to bring that up again," Carol said.

"You the one brought this up," Daryl said. "I was just—tellin' you what all happened. What got in the way."

"I thought you weren't interested," Carol said. "You didn't want me. But I couldn't figure out what you did want. I mean—there were other women."

"Not that I cared about like that," Daryl offered.

"They could have been," Carol said.

"No," Daryl said. "They couldn't have been."

He didn't elaborate, and Carol didn't push him to elaborate. She let him fall quiet for a moment. She let him think about the ten years they'd known one another. She gave him time to cover whatever mental ground he needed to cover. She saw his jaw relax when he'd run the full stretch of things and, dropping his spent and forgotten cigarette into his ashtray, he lit another with a much more relaxed air.

"Noticed you asked if I'd still feel the same way when it's gone," Daryl said. "You didn't say nothin' about if you would still feel the same."

"Because I know I will," Carol offered.

"Did you know that when—you were with them?" Daryl asked.

"I was with them to fill something inside of me," Carol said. "Something that was missing. You weren't there."

"So, you don't think that you're gonna find that somethin' missin' again?" Daryl asked.

"Not if you're not going anywhere," Carol offered. "I think—I believe—you were what's missing."

"So, you think—you're gonna feel the same even when the touch of fever's gone. Like me."

"I know I will," Carol repeated, happy to give him as much reassurance as he might need, as often as he might need it. "I have. It almost feels like forever."

Daryl laughed to himself and Carol hummed at him.

"Feels like forever," he said. Carol didn't know if he was quoting with her, agreeing with her, or both. She decided he might be doing a bit of both. "Craziest damn thing is that you wake up three hundred fuckin' years from everything—all of that. And you don't know if that life was a dream or this life is a dream…"

"I can't believe either one is a dream," Carol offered quickly.

"And it doesn't even matter," Daryl agreed. "But we find out—we got a whole fuckin' life here, Carol. Like—a whole ass life to live. It's like wakin' up an' findin' out you're a kid again. You got all that laid out before you. Could be like seventy, eighty years."

He finished what he wanted of the cigarette that he remembered, this time, that he was smoking, snubbed it out, and dropped the ashtray off on the coffee table on his way to pour himself a glass of water from the pitcher that Carol had filled earlier in the sink. She'd replicated a pitcher and a few glasses for them so that they weren't always needing to beg water from the machine—and because Daryl preferred to drink the water from the sink because he still worried that there was something not quite right about the machine that they called a replicator.

Carol stood up and walked over to where he was standing, drinking the water.

"You could be stuck with me for seventy or eighty years," she said.

He smiled to himself, the corners of his mouth barely turning up. He drained what was left in his glass and put the glass down.

"I was startin' to count on it," he said.

He reached for her, and she came to him. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of him pulling her closer. She enjoyed the feeling of his lips finding the corner of her mouth and then her lips. She kissed him back, and she enjoyed the feeling of his hand as it snaked around her and slipped under her shirt to rub the skin on her back.

She broke the kiss again.

He stared at her, hard, for just a moment. Then he smiled, laughing low in his throat.

"Still ain't changed my mind," he offered. "And I don't feel feverish—no matter what the holograph said."

"Hologram," Carol said.

Daryl only laughed to himself again.

"Like I give a shit," he said. "Point is—I'ma stop because you pullin' away from me makes me think that's what you want me to do. And I'ma do what you want me to do, but—I ain't changed my mind."

Carol nodded her understanding.

"We need to go to the briefing," she said. "Chakotay said Kathryn needed half an hour or so. That's it."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You see it as—we should start that way," Daryl said. "I see it as—we're wastin' time. I don't know about for you, especially without the fever drivin' things, but half an hour's a long time if we're makin' the best of it."

Carol laughed to herself. She couldn't help it.

"I hear what you're saying," she offered. "But—there's something else on my mind."

Daryl nodded.

"I'm not pushing," Daryl said. "I'm not—and if you say no, then no is what the hell we go with. But—do you think we could possibly get your mind cleared off by, just say, before we're leavin' for that job?"

Carol laughed again and nodded. She kissed him—because she needed it, and maybe he needed it, too—but she pulled away before he could get too wrapped up in it. He groaned at her, but offered no other complaint. There was a hint of pout to his features that she'd never seen him wear before.

"This morning—I put my pajamas on while you were in the shower," Carol said. "And I dressed while I was in the bathroom."

"I know," Daryl said.

"You didn't see me entirely—naked," Carol said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You forget how the hell we spent the whole damned night?" Daryl asked. "I saw you naked. Up close and pretty damned personal. And—I'd like to see it again, but we're gonna have to go to that meeting first because we done spent most of our time, and our badges are gonna start goin' off in a minute. You know Kathryn—the captain—don't like to wait."

Carol nodded at him the whole time that he spoke, wrapping his complaint up in the form of information.

"You didn't see me without the fever," Carol said. "That's all I'm saying. And the doctor was right. The scars? They're everywhere, Daryl. And they're ugly. Scars from Ed and everything else, and wrinkles, and stretchmarks and…"

"I got shit, too," Daryl said. "You know."

"It's different," Carol said.

"How the hell is it different?" Daryl asked. "Scars are scars. Some of 'em you got from Ed. OK. I know how that shit works. Shitty reminders of a shitty fuckin' person. But you're still here, and he ain't. And that's the way it ought to be. Everything else? From out there? Everything you done and everything that was done to you? Don't matter. You're still here." He laughed to himself, clearly truly pleased with his next thought. "And we got seventy or eighty years."

"You might not think they're so attractive without the fever," Carol said.

"I might not give a shit either way," Daryl offered with a shrug. "Hell—I don't give a shit. I mean…I hate you got 'em 'cause I know none of that shit comes without something happening, but I don't give a shit about some scar, Carol. Not the way you actin' like I'ma care."

"The doctor could remove them," Carol said. "The scars. The wrinkles. Everything."

"That what you want?" Daryl asked.

"I'm asking what you want," Carol said. "If we're—really talking about this. If we're really thinking about seventy or eighty years together. What do you want to—look at?"

"Whatever makes you feel OK when you look in the mirror," Daryl said. "Because I weren't bothered either way. But we just missed out on what coulda been a good fifteen or twenty minutes together of unmakin' that bed in there because you're worried. Uncomfortable. That's what I don't want. I don't want you uncomfortable. Not with me. Not ever. So, if there's somethin' you need him to do to help you with that? I'll—hold your hand or whatever you need me to do while he handles it."

"What about your scars?" Carol asked. "Do you want to get rid of them?"

"They bother you?" Daryl asked.

"They bother you," Carol responded. "You always try to hide them from people."

Daryl shook his head.

"Try to hide them because I don't like the pity," Daryl said. "Pity ain't never done a thing for me. Never changed nothin'. You know what it looks like. In someone's eyes when they see it. But—erasin' the scars don't erase that it happened. Erasin' them scars won't erase my old man no more than erasin' what you got's gonna make it so Ed didn't happen." He shook his head. "I didn't have to hide 'em from you. Not since you saw 'em on the farm. You don't gotta hide yours from me. Unless—you wanted me to get rid of mine?"

"Daryl…" Carol said, her heart pounding suddenly in her chest.

"Hmmm?" He hummed.

"I love you," Carol said. "Just like you are. Scars and all."

She almost felt lightheaded from her rapid heartbeat. If the doctor hadn't only cleared her half an hour earlier as a remarkably healthy woman, she might have worried about her cardiac health. She searched his face for some evidence that he might run from words that she knew carried a lot of weight. It was probably too soon, if it was ever the right time.

Instead of running, his features softened.

"I love you, too," Daryl said. He smiled to himself like he hadn't really known how the words would sound. "Keep the scars. All of 'em. Unless they gonna keep your mind cluttered up—'cause I really wouldn't mind if it was to be cleared up after the meetin'."

Carol smiled to herself.

"I think it'll be very clear before we have to leave for the planet," she assured him.


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope that you enjoy! There's a lot coming up, but this moves us forward a great deal! **

**Let me know what you think! **

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The goal for the day was simple. They collected a few samples that Ensign Reynolds needed for the planetary analysis that they would add to their database. She would also gather some samples that would help them determine—beyond their scans which were coming back with very little hopeful indication of minerals and resources that they could use on the ship—whether or not there was anything worth mining in the area. While she collected the samples that she needed, they explored the immediately surrounding area.

They beamed down into a clearing. Not far from the beam-down spot, there was a nice wooded area. Chakotay's tricorder picked up readings of animal life, but he hadn't seen anything. While they'd been wandering around, he'd taken the opportunity to show Daryl how to use the tricorder, since he and Carol had both been given one as part of their away team gear, and Daryl had talked excitedly with him about how much they could have benefitted from having tricorders before.

Daryl had also reminded them that the likelihood of seeing animals, on their first day on the planet, was not very good. They were new there. Their scents were new. They made unfamiliar noises. This was especially true if their scans were correct and they found no humanoid life signs while they wandered around. If they were the first humanoids to be present on the planet, the animals were absolutely going to run from them.

There were mountains in the distance. They could see them, but arriving there would be too much of a walk for a simple reconnaissance mission. If they were devoted enough to exploring the planet, or even if the samples that Ensign Reynolds took back to the ship offered enough hope of useful resources, they would have a team beamed down in the mountainous region to explore and begin extracting materials.

There was a river, too. It was wide and slow moving. It dipped and turned and ran off toward the mountains, cutting a line through the land of clear, blue water. There were fish in the water, and Daryl and Chakotay walked along the edge and pointed out the different colors and patterns that appeared on fish that neither of them had ever seen before.

Carol followed Kathryn when she waved her hand in a relaxed and inviting gesture, and the two of them walked a few good feet away from the river bank where Daryl and Chakotay were entertaining themselves with the fish.

Ensign Reynolds was in her element, so nobody bothered her as she filled the sample case she carried with her.

"This place is like Eden," Carol said.

"Eden?" Kathryn asked. Carol caught, for just a moment, that the woman closed her eyes as if to simply enjoy the moment a little more.

"The Garden of Eden?" Carol pressed. "Adam and Eve. Paradise."

"It is paradise," Kathryn agreed. "I'll give you that. Though—it would seem we're the first humans here."

"I keep looking for Walkers," Carol offered with a laugh. "I guess old habits die hard."

"Walkers?" Kathryn asked.

"The—I guess you'd call them the dead? But the living dead? From our—what'd you call our plague?"

"Oh. The Millennium Plague. The literature never did agree on what to call the reanimated dead. In the scientific journals I read, there was an effort to de-humanize the corpses because of the need to study the disease and to avoid too much contact with them. They called them the 'reanimated' more than anything."

"We heard lots of names for them," Carol said. "Every new person you met had a different name for them. We called them Walkers."

"It's a suitable name," Kathryn said. "For such a horrible…experience. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you."

Carol's stomach clenched. It seemed strange to be three hundred years in the future, talking about her past like it was another life entirely. It felt like another life entirely.

She and Daryl had talked about starting over. They really could.

And the distance felt better than Carol could have ever imagined it might. It happened. It had been her life. Her experiences had been her experiences, but they were so far away that she could let them go. She could work on truly putting down the weight of all she'd carried without fear—irrational or otherwise—that something would rear its head again.

Or, at least, she could begin putting things down.

"It was terrible," she said sincerely, but without any unnecessary drama to the words. This was just a conversation. Kathryn was reaching out to understand her. To empathize with her and share a moment. She didn't need to be convinced of Carol's suffering. For all that Carol knew, the woman in front of her, who offered very little of her private self, had known suffering that Carol had never imagined. "We lost so many people we cared about. And every person you met—you were always kind of aware that it might be temporary. Every good thing you found. It was temporary. Still—when you lost it…"

"Loss never gets any easier," Kathryn said.

She said it with conviction. She'd lost. Carol didn't need to know of what or whom she might be thinking to know that she was speaking from a place of experience.

"It makes it hard to trust the good," Carol offered.

Kathryn smiled to herself.

"You always worry about when the loss will come again," Kathryn agreed. "Poetically, I would tell you not to be afraid. That fear is a useless emotion. But we're all afraid. We have to face our fears, though. We have to keep going. Otherwise…"

"We'd all curl up and die," Carol offered.

"I didn't mean to get depressing," Kathryn said, her demeanor changing in an instant. She sucked in a breath, let it out in a sigh, and seemed to release her negativity with it. "I don't believe that you'll find any Walkers here, and the doctor assured me that he did enough replacement and rejuvenation work with you and Daryl, both, that you won't be spreading the virus to create Walkers."

Carol's stomach tightened again, reminding her of things she'd thought of as she'd lie awake with the excited anticipation of going on a mission with Kathryn and Chakotay.

"Does that mean that—when we die—we won't turn?" Carol asked.

"Turn?" Kathryn asked.

"Into Walkers," Carol said. "The virus—everyone was infected. When you died, if your brain hadn't been injured severely enough, you would turn into one of the Walkers. You would reanimate."

Kathryn nodded her head slowly.

"I understand," she said. "The doctor—as he explained it to me—had to, essentially, cleanse nearly every cell in your body. In Daryl's, too. Rejuvenate them. He removed the virus so that you could neither infect the ship nor any species we encounter—because the Millennium Plague was highly contagious—nor would you still carry the virus. You're clean of it. Essentially, you're just like you were before you were infected." She laughed to herself. "Our doctor is very thorough, and he loves a challenge—no matter how much he grumbles about it. You may even be in better health than you were before the infection. I hope that you both live very long lives, but when you die? You'll both die just the same as I would."

Carol swallowed against an unexpected lump in her throat. There was an inexplicable relief in knowing that the virus had been entirely eradicated from her body. She would not return as a Walker when she died. She would rest in peace without fear of reanimation. And, with any luck, she'd never see a Walker again except for in her nightmares. Because, for all his work with rejuvenation, the doctor had not taken those away, and Carol was sure that certain images from her past would haunt her until she drew her last breath—no matter where in time or space that may happen.

"But the captain doesn't die, right?" Carol asked.

Kathryn smiled.

"We are just as human as everyone else," Kathryn said. She made eye contact with Carol, and she held it, instead of glancing back and forth at the horizon where she was admiring the beauty of the mountains in the distance. "We will die for our crew, if that's what we're called to do."

Carol nodded her understanding. She'd never been in the military, but she understood a little about it. She didn't know as much about Starfleet, but she'd gathered that it was similar. Duty was important. It was a driving force to all of them. Kathryn, surely, had to have certain traits to make it to a point where she commanded an entire ship and crew—and kept them all relatively happy and unquestionably devoted to her.

"So, what happens now?" Carol asked. "The planet is obviously safe. You didn't even need us."

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"In any new situation, you never know what you're going to find. We could have beamed down here to find hostile aliens or apex predators surrounding us. We were lucky this was what we found. Still—Ensign Reynolds will take her samples back to the lab and she'll begin running an analysis. Some of the crew will begin to beam down with supplies. We'll start setting up a camping area. Probably over there. Closer to the lake, I think. The crew will get the R and R that's been coming to them for a while. They'll get a few days to rest and overcome some of their cabin fever. Lieutenant Tom Paris is the best helmsman we can ask for, and he'll land Voyager for B'Elanna and her crew to make some much needed repairs. If Ensign Reynolds' report comes back that there are resources here that we can use—and we can access them without causing any kind of serious damage to the planet—then we'll stay a few days longer to gather what we can."

"And then what?" Carol asked.

"Then we continue toward the Alpha Quadrant," Kathryn said. "We continue toward home."

While they were talking, the ensign in question came toward them carrying her case. Carol thought she looked young. She might have guessed the woman was in her early thirties at best. With the new knowledge she had about aging, though, she wasn't sure exactly how old the woman might be. She assumed it was still rude to ask, especially without knowing someone well.

The ensign was on her very first away mission, apparently, and was quite excited about it. She smiled hard enough that her face looked like it must hurt.

"I'm ready to beam up, Captain," Ensign Reynolds declared.

"Very well," Kathryn said. She touched her combadge. "Captain Janeway to Tuvok."

"Yes, Captain," Tuvok responded.

"Ensign Reynolds is ready to come aboard with her samples," Kathryn said. "Did you get the coordinates that Commander Chakotay sent you?"

"We have the coordinates," Tuvok confirmed.

"You can tell Lieutenant Paris to land the ship there. It's a large clearing and it should have no problem accommodating Voyager."

"He has requested a period of preparation for the landing," Tuvok responded.

"Tell him he has all the time he needs," Kathryn said. "I have prepared duty rosters in case we decided to land. Please distribute them to the crew. We'll need a skeleton crew onboard Voyager at all times, but I want there to be enough rotation that everyone who wants fresh air gets plenty of it."

"Understood, Captain," Tuvok responded. "Am I to assume that you do not intend to beam aboard at this time?"

"I think we're going to remain on the surface while we wait," Kathryn said. "Unless you need me on the ship at this time."

"Everything is under control, Captain," Tuvok said. "We'll beam Ensign Reynolds aboard, and we'll begin preparation to land Voyager."

"Very good, Lieutenant Tuvok," Kathryn responded. "You won't hesitate to contact me if I'm needed."

"Should the need arise, Captain, we'll contact you immediately," Tuvok assured her. "We're initiating transport for Ensign Reynolds."

"Janeway out," Kathryn offered.

She'd barely disconnected from the conversation before the excited ensign, holding her case like it was a treasured Christmas gift, disappeared in what Carol could only call something like a flash of static followed by nothing at all.

Being transported to the surface had been the oddest feeling, and upon appearing on the surface, Daryl had not worried a bit about decorum when he'd quickly hugged Carol. He was as pleased to find her in one piece—after the odd experience—as she was to find that he hadn't been scrambled. They were assured the transporter technology was safe, and they were assured that they'd get used to it, but the first trip had certainly been a wild ride. Carol was glad, honestly, that they weren't beaming back aboard the ship at the moment because she wished to put the experience off just a little.

"Ensign Reynolds has beamed up?" Chakotay asked, walking toward them with Daryl close behind. Daryl was holding a small bunch of grass, and he was splitting pieces of it with his fingertips as he walked.

"Tom's going to prepare Voyager and land her in the clearing," Kathryn said. "Tuvok's going to implement the new duty rosters. And we'll have R and R for a few days—unless there's some mining work to be done."

"If Neelix can't identify any of the plant life," Chakotay said, "I think we should test some of it to bring to airponics."

Before Kathryn could agree or disagree with the idea, her combadge chirped and Tuvok made connection with her once more.

"Captain—you need to scan yourself and the others in your party," Tuvok said. "I'm collecting data from your tricorder now."

Kathryn's brows knitted together, but she scanned each of them without hesitation. Then she turned the tricorder over to Chakotay and allowed him to scan her.

"Is there something wrong, Lieutenant?" She asked.

"I'm afraid there is," Tuvok responded after only little more than a second of hesitation. "I'm with the doctor. It appears that there's some kind of toxin that you've come into contact with."

"A toxin?" Kathryn asked.

"Captain, permission to contact you shortly with more information."

"Granted," Kathryn responded. "But don't leave us waiting too long. I expect to be kept informed."

"Aye, Captain."

They all looked at each other, but there was no need to ask any questions. It wasn't as though anyone there had any more information than anyone else. It seemed like the four of them stood in absolute silence for half an hour, though Carol was sure that it wasn't nearly that long. It only seemed longer because of their nervous anticipation of what Tuvok might say next.

When his voice returned over the combadge connection, he didn't bring them any of the words that Carol had hoped for—words that he was mistaken.

"Captain," Tuvok said. "Are you there?"

"We're here," Kathryn said. "Go ahead."

"The toxin appears to be inactive in your scans," Tuvok said. Carol thought that sounded like good news. The Vulcan that was speaking, however, sounded more solemn than he normally did—not that he ever sounded very excited or upbeat. "The doctor is unsure, at this time, about where you may have come into contact with the toxin on the surface. It is registering, however, in the scans of everyone in the away team."

"Understood," Kathryn said. "Beam us directly to sickbay so the doctor can begin working out a solution to the problem."

"I am afraid that is inadvisable," Tuvok responded. "Captain—the toxin is inactive in your scans. It would appear that, within the atmosphere of the planet, the toxin is present but harmless."

Carol saw something on Kathryn's expression change. She didn't fully understand what was happening, but she felt like she could feel what Kathryn was clearly feeling.

"Please be direct, Lieutenant," Kathryn said. "Do we have reason to believe the toxin is dangerous outside of the atmosphere?"

"I'm sorry, Captain," Tuvok said. Carol thought she heard a hint of that emotion in his voice—something she'd already learned was very uncharacteristic of him and his species. "It appears that the toxin is extremely fast-acting beyond the atmosphere."

"What has happened, Tuvok?" Kathryn asked. Carol saw the woman visibly brace herself as though she expected physical impact with something capable of taking her off her feet. "Report," she commanded with a great deal of authority.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Tuvok repeated. "The doctor tried everything he could. Ensign Reynolds did not survive."


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. I'm really hoping for at least one more this weekend. **

**I wrote one earlier, so please make sure you didn't miss it. There was one yesterday, too, if you missed that one. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"Gotta be like a world record," Daryl mused. He sat beside Carol, on the ground. Both of them had found a tree that was large enough for them to be able to share it as a backrest without having to fully turn away from one another. They had chosen the spot because it was shady and offered them relief from the sun. It was nice to see the sun again, but they'd been down on the planet for so long that it was growing overwhelming.

Hours were passing. If the planet was anything like Earth—which it strongly resembled—the night would be coming in four hours or less. The sun was already beginning to set.

Carol and Daryl were naturally cautious of the dark. Years spent living in what they now could call a world that was racked by the Millennium Plague had taught them that darkness hid the things they needed to see. And Walkers, it seemed, were always busier at night—perhaps because they could see light more distinctly as it contrasted with the darkness.

There were no Walkers here, and there was no clear reason to fear the night. Still, the approach of nightfall made Carol feel uneasy. It made her want to rush Kathryn and Chakotay into finding a resolution for their problem.

The two officers had moved off some distance in search of privacy, though they hadn't come out and said that's what they were doing. Carol and Daryl had recognized what they were doing, though, and they'd stepped away. They'd given them space to do what they needed to do.

Carol had caught snatches of the conversation, and she knew that nothing was solved as of yet.

It had, more than likely, been an insect that had bitten them. The toxin wasn't present in the air, water, or soil samples. That much they knew. The toxin seemed to have deposited something into their bloodstream that had spread quickly. It had created some sort of virus. They were infected. The atmosphere around them protected them from suffering any harmful effects of the virus—at least as far as they could tell at the moment—but as soon as they were removed from the atmosphere, the virus would likely kill them almost immediate, as it had done with the young ensign who had collapsed the moment she'd materialized on the transporter pad.

It was a virus. A brutal, fatal virus.

"Have a clean, fresh, perfect fuckin' body," Daryl mused. "And fuck that shit up overnight, practically." He laughed to himself. He lit a cigarette from his pocket. "That's gotta be like a record."

"I don't think there can be a record if we're the only two people who have ever been in our situation," Carol offered.

"She's gonna have a nervous breakdown," Daryl offered, gesturing off to where Kathryn and Chakotay were standing.

"I think she's pretty composed," Carol said with a laugh. Chakotay had put his hand on Kathryn's shoulder, and he'd kept it there often, but she hadn't requested it. Her eyes had been damp, but she'd never let an actual tear fall. She was, in Carol's opinion, the definition of control and composure. She was doing what she could to handle something that was out of all their control. "She can't do anything about this. She didn't cause the virus."

"And that's why the hell she's gonna have a breakdown," Daryl said. "It's all too damn heavy. Too damn much. They trained her to take responsibility for shit she can't control. She's holdin' it together, but sooner or later the shoe's gotta fall."

"I think she's going to be fine," Carol said. "And if she's not—we know how to handle when the shoe falls. We've all had a little practice in that moment when…when we have to put it down. So, we'll just help her pick it back up again and we won't say anything else about it. She's still the captain."

"My point is somebody oughta tell her that she can put it down," Daryl said. "Share it around. Somethin'. Shit just is what it is. We didn't do no more, here, to get bug bit by one of these little blood-sucking assholes than we did to get the plague before."

Carol hummed at him, but she dropped the line of thought. She had no doubt that Kathryn had to put everything down eventually—somewhere and somehow. She had to set down command once in a while to simply sit and be a human being, out from under the pressure to handle everything.

Carol also had no doubt at all that, given half the chance, Chakotay would gladly carry anything that Kathryn allowed him to help her carry. He would, Carol felt, be more than pleased to help her relieve any stress she might be feeling, too.

But Kathryn didn't seem to notice that or, more than likely, she actively ignored it because she had other, more pressing things to worry about.

"It's going to get dark," Carol offered.

Daryl hummed.

"Three hours?" He asked.

"Four," Carol said. "Maybe three. I've been watching how fast the sun moves. Without a watch—I don't know how time's really passing. I don't think we're going back to the ship before then."

"We might not ever be goin' back," Daryl offered.

"It's a clear night," Carol said. "That undergrowth is pretty comfortable. And the trees offer enough coverage if it turns out not to stay clear all night. It's not ideal, but I think we could sleep there. Take turns keeping watch."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"For Walkers?" He asked.

"For whatever's out here," Carol said. He offered her a pack of cigarettes.

"You want one?" He asked.

"No," she said. "I'm taking care of my new body."

Daryl laughed.

"What the hell for?" He asked. "Didn't you hear? Got a fatal virus. Gonna kill us all. All the hell I can say is—if we're all dyin', is this how the hell we gonna go? Just sittin' around starin' at each other?"

"You had other ways you wanted to go?" Carol asked, smirking at him.

"I could think up some decent ways to spend my last couple of hours or whatever, yeah," Daryl said. Carol smiled at him. She reached a hand over and rested it on his leg. He covered her hand with his own and squeezed it.

"I'm not used to this side of you," she teased.

"You want me to—shut up or change or somethin'?" Daryl asked.

Carol laughed to herself. She got the feeling that, even though he was happy exploring a side of himself that, maybe, he'd never explored before, he would gladly suppress it for her if that's what she wanted.

"No," she said. "I like it. It's new, but…I like it."

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Chakotay could see the strain on Kathryn's features. The death of Ensign Reynolds hadn't had time to sink in for either of them. It was there. It was something they knew—mostly because the tests that were being run right now were, without a doubt, only possible because of the ensign's presence on the ship.

It would sink in for them later. They would each mourn her in their own way. Still, Chakotay knew that the sad fact of the matter was that mourning would not last long. They had both learned—as the world had taught them—that death was a part of life and mourning was something that had to be done as they kept moving. Besides that, and no matter how harsh it sounded, the young ensign would not leave a large personal hole in either of their lives.

Professional mourning was quite different than personal mourning, no matter how callous it would sound to speak that truth out loud.

The ensign was gone and there was no bringing her back. Chakotay had no doubt that Kathryn would beat herself up a thousand different ways over how she might have avoided the young woman's death, but right now her focus had to be given to other issues. She had to think about what she was going to do save other lives—to avoid that fate for others—and she had to think about what she was going to do for the good of the ship and crew.

The virus, it appeared, was not being spread in the air. The air in the containment field where they were running tests remained clean, even though they left it open to exposure. The virus had to be spread by some kind of direct contact. The bite they'd found was probably from an insect that had transmitted the disease. As soon as the bite was described to them, they'd all found the bites on their skin—almost microscopic. They hadn't even paid attention to the minor discomfort the bite had provided, and now it would kill them if they left the protective atmosphere of the planet.

There was nothing Chakotay could do except stay close to Kathryn and offer her support, and his opinion, when she seemed to need either one.

"The stasis chambers would allow me to monitor you more closely. It could also allow us to test certain possible medications and gauge your reaction while in a relatively controlled medical environment," the doctor explained. "Furthermore, it would keep the virus from worsening while we're searching for a cure."

Kathryn sighed.

"Keep working, Doctor," Kathryn commanded. "I'll contact you soon with my decision. Janeway out."

Chakotay wished he had some power to wipe the exhaustion off her features. He knew it was a type of exhaustion that was far worse than any she could cure by sleeping.

"We won't have to worry about resources or exacerbating the situation," Chakotay said. "And it's the only way to give the doctor access to our bodies without risking leaving the atmosphere. Voyager will stay in orbit while he works, and he'll wake us when he's got a solution."

"And if he doesn't find a solution?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay nodded his understanding of her concern. He reached a hand out, touched her shoulder, and squeezed. She had refused none of his affection today. She'd shied away from none of it. It only demonstrated to him how very overwhelmed she was feeling. She needed what he could offer her.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Chakotay said. "For right now, we have to give him the chance to find a solution. We have to give him the ability to run some tests."

"What about Daryl and Carol?" Kathryn asked.

"As long as they're in stasis, they'll be safe," Chakotay said. "And, hopefully, when we wake up, there will be good news for all of us. We'll get on with our lives, and they'll get on with theirs."

"They never asked to be dragged into any of this," Kathryn said.

"Neither did we," Chakotay said. "Not exactly. Still, they're resilient. They're survivors of the Millennium Plague. I'm sure they're not afraid of a little virus." He laughed to himself and gestured toward the place where he could see the couple sitting on the ground under a tree. "They don't look too worried."

The truth was, they didn't look worried at all. They looked pretty relaxed. They were holding hands, and they were sitting close enough that they were touching. Even as they watched them for a few seconds, they caught the two exchanging a clearly meaningful kiss.

Chakotay's stomach clenched in something like jealousy at the sight. But he was happy for them.

He thought everyone deserved happiness—even if not all of them were allowed it.

"They're happy," Kathryn said. A smile spread across her lips at the sight of the two people exchanging a kiss under the tree. For just a second, she didn't look as concerned. But then the weight of reality dropped back down around her. "They found happiness just for us to snatch it away from them."

Chakotay squeezed her shoulder again and dared to draw her near him. She came, and he closed his eyes. He wished he could offer her more than a hug of comfort. He wished he could kiss her the same way that Daryl and Carol were kissing each other as they passed the time.

He wished they didn't carry the weight of command and duty—and the weight of figuring out how to handle what they all faced. He wished it could all be as simple as sharing kisses and holding hands under the shade of a tree—even if only for a moment.

"We're not snatching it away," Chakotay said. "We're figuring out how to let them keep it."

Kathryn nodded her head. Without pulling away from him or putting any distance between them, she tapped her combadge.

"Beam down the stasis chambers, Doctor," Kathryn said. She looked at Chakotay. "Let's go and—tell them what we've decided."

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The hypospray and cartridges that had been beamed down weren't necessary, but they were certainly going to prove to be helpful. For as annoying as the doctor may have found Daryl, though, Chakotay didn't blame the man at all for his reactions. He didn't even find him annoying.

On a level he'd never admit out loud, he understood the man, and he respected him.

Chakotay had feared he might have a stroke, though, or some other equally terrible reaction when they closed the lid on Carol's stasis pod.

Chakotay's chest had ached for the man's uncertainty. And he respected the strength that he showed in facing that uncertainty. He had heard stories, his whole life, of his people and the way that they'd been treated as ignorant for their lack of understanding of technology that was different—not better, simply different—than their own knowledge and practices. In Daryl and Carol, he was able to see that struggle, and to understand as it happened. Perhaps that was one reason that he didn't get annoyed at the man.

The other reason was that, even if he didn't dare to say it, he knew what it was to love someone enough that your own life seemed relatively worthless in comparison to theirs.

"She's asleep," Kathryn said softly, her hand on Daryl's shoulder as he pressed his hands to the lid of the stasis pod.

"You're sure she's—she's still breathin'?" He asked.

"She's breathing," Chakotay assured him. "Her vital signs—see that read out? Her vital signs are normal. It's a dreamless sleep. Completely peaceful." 

"Restorative, really," Kathryn offered.

"What if her air runs out?" Daryl asked.

"She won't suffocate," Chakotay assured him. "She's being monitored, at all times, on Voyager. We all will be. If our pods start to fail, the atmosphere here poses no danger. They'll simply open our pods and we'll wake up."

"Who goes last?" Daryl asked.

"I'll go last," Kathryn assured him. "I'm the captain. I'll see that everyone's pod is secure and then—I'll tell the doctor to seal mine."

"What if somethin' goes wrong with yours?" Daryl asked.

Chakotay's stomach clenched at the suggestion. He didn't doubt the stasis pods at all, but Daryl's concern was palpable and nearly contagious.

"It won't," Kathryn assured him. "But if it does? B'Elanna will handle it. And I trust B'Elanna to handle it. Come on. We need to get you in your pod."

Daryl nodded. He lingered a moment longer with his hand on Carol's pod, and then he allowed them to lead him to his. Chakotay administered the hypospray. It would simply calm him. It would make him want to sleep, just as it had done for Carol. She was claustrophobic and the very idea of the pod had sent her nearly into hysterics. The hypospray had calmed her. It calmed Daryl, too, and it took them very little time to get his pod sealed.

Kathryn followed Chakotay to his own pod. She took the hypospray from him and waved it.

"Something to help you sleep?" She asked.

He shook his head.

"I'm fine," he said. "Captain—I could wait. I could go last. Help you seal your pod."

She winked at him. How he appreciated just that simple gesture and the smile on her face. He eased himself into the pod, pleased that he could take such an image with him as he faded off into the sleep that would follow.

"It's time for bed, Commander," she said. "Stop stalling."

"Yes ma'am," he said with a laugh. "I'll see you soon. Goodnight, Captain."

She smiled at him. She leaned over him. He knew, in a moment, he would close his eyes. That smile would be the last thing he saw until they woke him from stasis. That could be an hour from now or years from now.

"Sweet dreams, Commander," Kathryn said.

Chakotay accepted that as the last thing he needed. He closed his eyes. He heard the hiss of the chamber closing. He heard it seal. He held the image of her face just in front of his eyes as the darkness of peaceful, dreamless sleep swept over him.


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. We've got a time jump that's explained in the chapter. We're moving forward with the story! **

**I wrote two chapters today, and one yesterday, so if you missed anything, please go back and make sure you got it! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Chakotay stood and let it all sink in.

They'd just beamed what seemed to practically be the entire contents of the ship to the surface of the planet—it was everything that Kathryn had requested. They would have the time to check over everything they had and put in any extra requests that might be necessary.

At that time, Voyager would leave orbit.

Voyager would leave them behind.

When they came out of stasis, Chakotay didn't know what he expected to happen exactly. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he imagined that the doctor would say that they'd found a solution to their problem. They had a cure for the virus. It had only been a temporary setback. He didn't know, until he heard it, that he'd never expected the doctor to say that they'd worked tirelessly to find a cure and simply hadn't found one.

Kathryn had considered their options, and she'd halfway talked them over with Chakotay, Carol, and Daryl. Then she'd made the decision that was, really, the only decision that they could make.

The only hope they had of finding any kind of cure in a timely manner was to consult with the Vidiians. They were an alien species that had done nothing but threaten Voyager and anyone else with which they had contact. They had superior medical technology and a lifelong knowledge of the Delta Quadrant, but putting the crew in contact with them would be putting them all in a situation where they were risking their lives. Kathryn wouldn't allow the crew to do that. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few in this moment.

Upon waking, they discovered that the doctor had been working for nearly three weeks on a cure. They'd remained in stasis during that time. For their bodies, at least, not a moment had passed since they'd closed their eyes. That wasn't true for the crew of Voyager, though. Time was passing for them and they were wasting resources while they remained in orbit of a planet that could offer them nothing but a fatal virus and a type of prison sentence.

Voyager couldn't remain in orbit forever. Kathryn had promised the crew that she'd do everything in her power to get them home. The next step of keeping that promise was letting them go.

She had already handed over command of the ship to Tuvok—permanently. She would speak to the crew when he contacted them later to say that they were ready to leave orbit.

The virus wouldn't harm any of them as long as they remained in the planet's atmosphere. They were stranded on the planet, but they could live there. They could build lives there, even if they were lives unlike any they might have imagined.

Still, Kathryn had requested a great deal of research equipment and she'd been granted that. She'd also been granted a shuttle large enough to hold the four of them. She believed that she could find a cure. She believed that they could catch up with Voyager.

Or, perhaps, she simply needed to believe that for just a little while.

"Everything's here that I need for my research," Kathryn confirmed as she burrowed through the items that had been beamed down.

Carol and Daryl were walking around the outside of the collection of items, clearly trying to decide what they should do and how they should proceed.

"Do you really think we're going to need that?" Chakotay asked. "Do you really think you can find a cure for this?"

"If I can find a specimen of the insect that bit us," Kathryn said, "then I can begin to figure out what it is that's keeping us protected in the atmosphere. I can figure out how to replicate it."

"And then what?" Daryl asked.

"We'll catch up with Voyager and continue back to the Alpha Quadrant," Kathryn said.

She was cheerful. She was too cheerful. Chakotay could already tell that there would be a moment, somewhere, where she'd come to terms with all of this. Right now, though, she was doing her best to keep morale up.

Honestly, though, morale didn't look too terribly low. Carol and Daryl were pleased to find they were alive. They were pleased to discover that, as long as they remained in the protective atmosphere of the planet, they had little reason to believe that they wouldn't stay alive. That was all that really seemed to concern them a great deal.

"Well, it looks like we're going to be here a while, at least," Chakotay offered, gathering up some of the panels that had been beamed down to erect their shelter. "We should start setting up a camp. What do you think? Beige or gray for the outside?"

Kathryn smiled as he showed her the two sides of the panels.

"I guess it depends on what kind of mood you're in," she said.

"Beige for the inside?" Chakotay asked.

"I've always looked better in beige," Kathryn said.

"Beige it is," Chakotay said. As he gathered up as many panels as he could carry at once, Daryl seemed to realize what he was doing. He stepped forward and gathered quite a few as well. "I think over there—near the trees. That's a good place to put the shelter."

"There's actually a clearin' further in," Daryl said. "Decent sized opening. Carol and me saw it when we were here earlier. If we put the shelter there, we get the shade. Some protection."

Chakotay didn't point out that "earlier" had been three weeks earlier. He doubted the cleared area had grown up too much. They could clear whatever undergrowth needed to be torn out, and he thought Daryl's plan was good.

"Lead the way, Daryl," Chakotay offered.

He followed after Daryl with Kathryn carrying supplies behind him and Carol following close on her heels with all that she could carry.

"I guess we'll get to see life from your perspective for a while," Kathryn offered. "From what I read, the survivors of the Millennium Plague lived in the most challenging times that anyone had seen in a hundred years. I guess now it's our turn to rough it."

Chakotay laughed to himself. He heard Daryl laugh, too.

"Rough it?" Chakotay teased. "We have shelter, furniture, a replicator, medical supplies, research supplies, seeds, a sonic shower. I don't know, Captain. It may be too rough for me."

"Ain't that the damn truth," Daryl said with a laugh as he walked up ahead.

"Well we don't have a bathtub," Kathryn said.

"A bathtub?" Chakotay asked.

"Oh—I love a bathtub," Kathryn said, putting down items when they reached the clearing area that Daryl had mentioned. She stretched her back and then turned, with the rest of them, to go back for another load of items. They walked lazily, in no kind of formation, back toward their mass of supplies. Chakotay couldn't help but notice that everyone, at the moment, looked light. Happy. He felt that way, himself. "A bathtub's my favorite way to relax."

"I love a bathtub, too," Carol said. "The big ones. I always wanted one you could sit in with water all the way up to your chin."

Kathryn laughed.

"They don't have to be very deep for me to do that," she teased.

"For now," Chakotay said, "I guess you'll just have to learn to unwind with the sonic shower, Captain." He ignored the shiver that ran through him at his own words. He ignored the thoughts that immediately came into his mind. This wasn't the time or the place—if there was even such a time or place. He could only forgive himself because he was, after all, only a man.

Kathryn looked at him over her shoulder and smiled—completely oblivious to his inappropriate thoughts.

"It looks like we're going to be here for a while, Chakotay," she said. "And—I'm not your captain any longer. Maybe you should consider simply calling me Kathryn."

Chakotay felt the weight of the suggestion as it dropped into his gut. He wanted very little as much as he wanted to call Kathryn by her name, at all times. He wanted the closeness that came with that intimacy.

But he was afraid to think more of it than she meant.

Still, he smiled at her. He reminded himself to be casual. They were moving their supplies. They were facing the very first hours of a life that would be very different for them—even if Daryl and Carol might feel more at home than they had since the Araulians had first taken them from their home.

"You might have to give me a couple of days to get used to it," Chakotay offered. "But—I'll work on it…Kathryn."

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Daryl hated to see a woman cry—especially over something legitimate.

Kathryn had hidden it well. She'd done her best to swallow back the tears, but a few had escaped.

If he was being honest, his own chest was knotted up by listening to her speech. It was time for Voyager to go. Her ship was leaving her behind—it was leaving all of them behind, but it had a different meaning for her and for Chakotay. Their family was leaving them behind.

She'd given them a very heartfelt thanks for everything they'd done for her and everything they'd given her. If Daryl had never been on the ship and seen the way that things were run, he would have believed that she'd given them nothing, but they'd given her everything. She'd promised them that they would be successful. They would make it home. They'd see their dreams come true.

She'd thanked them for being her family.

And then she'd set them free to go home.

When the communication had disconnected, she was no longer Captain Janeway. Officially, she was simply Kathryn.

And Daryl could feel the ache in his own chest at how hard it had been for her to let them go. To say goodbye.

He knew, though, that it was hard to admit that the life that you had known was just gone. After the turn, they'd all spent a lot of time imagining that they'd just stumble across someone that would help them understand that it had all been a mistake—a misunderstanding—and everything would go back to normal.

Things still weren't really normal. The normal that Daryl and Carol had once known was gone. Now, they were simply more flexible. They were simply more ready to call something new "normal," especially if it meant that they weren't being torn apart by reanimated corpses.

Kathryn would settle into her new normal, but it was going to take longer than five minutes of coming to terms with things.

Daryl hoped, too, that she'd realize that she could be happy. There was potential for happiness all around them. She just had to stop fretting over what wasn't and open her eyes to what was.

Daryl almost felt like he owed her something. After all, if she hadn't gotten them onboard her ship and taken care of them like she had, there was no telling how long it might have taken him to kiss Carol—and, more than that, to ever do any of the other things they'd already done together. There was no telling how long it would have taken him to admit that he loved Carol.

And, if it hadn't been for everything Kathryn's ship had given them, they wouldn't be facing the possibility of another seventy or eighty years together to make up for all the time they'd lost in their lives before.

Daryl felt like he owed it to her to help her find some happiness.

Of course, he wouldn't tell her that's what he was doing.

Daryl helped Chakotay construct their dwelling out of the panels that were sent down to the planet while Carol had helped Kathryn organize and arrange their supplies. The instructions on the shelter were simple enough and the shelter went together without too much trouble. It was something like a modular home, but it went up with a great deal less effort than a traditional modular home might have. Daryl assumed the structure was "roughing it" for those who had been accustomed to life on Voyager, but it was practically a five-star hotel for those who had slept in tents with one eye open, waiting to be brutally murdered in their sleep.

It took them most of the day to finish everything and to be prepared for their first night—out of the little stasis pods—on the planet. It would be their first night in their new little home. They quickly ate a replicated meal—which was not Daryl's favorite thing to do, despite the fact that he didn't mind the taste of the food, but it was the quickest thing they could do at the moment. Then they went about finishing bringing their things inside and setting up the house.

When they brought the tables, chairs, and beds inside, the little home really started to look like something.

"It's kind of depressing," Chakotay mused, when he'd put down the last chair.

"It'll keep the rain and the sun out," Daryl offered. "At the end of the day, that's all that matters."

"It's a pretty bleak view of home to have," Kathryn said.

"It's safe," Daryl said. "That's the best thing a home can be."

"There's something to be said for comfort, too," Chakotay said. "Still, we're lucky for all that we have. At least we're not sleeping on the floor."

"A few flowers or something could brighten it up," Carol offered. "We can look for some tomorrow."

"There'll be a lot to do tomorrow," Daryl said. "We ought to start thinkin' about food. Explore the area, now that we know we're lookin' at it as a place to live and not a place to camp for a couple of nights."

"I can start my research tomorrow," Kathryn said. "The sooner I start, the sooner we'll find our way back to Voyager."

Daryl caught the expression that crossed Chakotay's face at the words, but he didn't dare ask the man about his thoughts on the matter. Not with Kathryn that close by, and certainly not with that look in her eye. She needed some sweet dreams—however they could get them for her.

"Whatever we're gonna do," Daryl offered, "we're all gonna need some sleep. Time to turn in."

"Carol and I will take that room," Kathryn said, gesturing off in the direction of one of the two bedrooms. The modular home boasted two bedrooms, a living area, and something like a kitchen and work area.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Beg your pardon?" He asked.

"Carol and I will take that room," Kathryn repeated. "Women and men."

"This ain't summer camp," Daryl said. "And—sorry, but you ain't the captain no more. Me an' Carol's accustomed to sleepin' together. We gonna take that room."

"There are two rooms and four beds," Kathryn said. "Clearly Tuvok intended for us to room as males and females."

Daryl laughed to himself. He glanced toward Carol. She looked amused. He glanced toward Chakotay. He couldn't read what the hell the man was thinking.

He was doing this shit for him, too. He hoped he could understand that.

Daryl squared himself up to his full height. That put him easily five inches taller than Kathryn, who was at least an inch shorter than Carol. He wished he could be gentle with her. He wished he could simply lead her in the direction of what was good for her. It was clear, though, that she would not go quietly in the direction that everyone else could clearly see was best for her.

He wouldn't hurt her—not really, and not ever—but he would nudge her. He put on the best unreasonable tone that his life as a Dixon had taught him to manage.

"I don't give a damn what the pointy-eared bastard thought. You see four beds. I see two cots that I'ma figure out how to join tomorrow. Carol an' me's got that room. You figure out your arrangements, but they ain't my problem."

"Daryl," Carol said softly, a warning that his acting was a bit too good, perhaps. He would explain himself to her later if such a thing were necessary.

Chakotay stepped forward. He didn't challenge Daryl, though. Daryl had half-expected him to. Instead, Daryl almost thought he caught a hint of a smile on Chakotay's lips as he looked at him. Instead of challenging Daryl, he dropped a hand onto Kathryn's shoulder and squeezed it affectionately.

"I can sleep out here," Chakotay said. "We can—work on other arrangements."

Kathryn sighed. She looked at Chakotay and shook her head.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "Really—it's the same as the shuttlecraft when we've gone on reconnaissance missions."

Chakotay hummed and nodded his head.

"Then let's get some sleep, Kathryn," he offered. "We'll have plenty to keep us busy tomorrow."

Kathryn nodded. She looked lighter. She didn't look as angry as she'd wanted to be about the rooming arrangement. Before she turned to let Chakotay guide her into the other room, she'd even offered Carol and Daryl each a smile and a goodnight.

They'd returned the wish for a goodnight—meaning it more than, maybe, she even knew—before they'd headed for their own little room.

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**AN: This is kind of random, but I just wanted to say that I know that a lot of people in Trek are vegetarians. I'm letting you know ahead of time that I'll be kind of ignoring that moving forward. There will be hunting/fishing/meat-eating and nobody's going to make a big deal of it. I just wanted you to know.**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think! **


	26. Chapter 26

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Chakotay thought that he'd be the first awake. The little house was silent and dark. Kathryn had been restless for the first part of the night, and he'd actually distracted her with a story that his father used to tell him about his people. She'd laughed, at first, about the fact that she was too old to require a bedtime story. Still, listening to him speak had calmed her. Chakotay hadn't stopped the playfully protested story until he was certain that her breathing had evened out and she hadn't moved in some time. She was still sleeping when he woke and left his bed as quietly as possible. The rest of the house was dark and silent, so he assumed that he was the first awake. He dressed and made his way outside to greet the morning and to begin to meditate on the best life for all of them and what they would need to achieve it.

He wasn't the first awake, though, and he quickly became aware of that.

The scratching noise had drawn Chakotay's attention—mostly because they had no idea who or what else might inhabit the planet, especially if they'd failed to show up on their tricorders for some reason. He'd followed the noise a very short distance, around the side of the house, to find Daryl sitting and working diligently on something.

"What is that?" Chakotay asked, inviting himself to where Daryl sat, working away at a stick with a knife.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Your people mighta knowed about this," Daryl mused. "I can see how all your technology coulda got in the way of you identifying it, though. This here is, in the simplest terms, what we would call a pointy stick. Now, when I'm done with it, the pointy stick can become anything from a stake to a spear to—hell, even an arrow."

"You're an asshole," Chakotay said with a laugh. He sat down next to Daryl.

"I've heard that before," Daryl mused.

"I mean what are you making with the sun barely up?" Chakotay asked.

"When the sun's barely up," Daryl said, "I find it's a good damn time to start thinkin' about breakfast. I don't know what the hell else we gonna find livin' around here, but I know that water's full of fuckin' fish. Brimmin' over. So I'ma go down there an' spear up enough fish that everybody eats. And Carol? She can work wonders with anything you give her to cook. The thought of breakfast is already got my stomach growling."

"We could replicate breakfast," Chakotay pointed out. Daryl hummed and nodded. His expression said more than his words ever could. "I know you're suspicious of the replicator."

"It don't work with magic," Daryl said. "I weren't even on the ship long, and I learned that it runs off a power source. One of like a half a dozen that B'Elanna told me powered different things on the ship."

"Right," Chakotay said.

"Look around us," Daryl said. "This ain't a good time to be dependent on power sources we don't got no more. Eventually, the charge on that thing runs out. And then it's us an' our pointy ass sticks out here. I used the replicator this morning. Begged up an assload of tools. Knives for everyone. Tools to build and plant and a shit ton of stuff for cookin' over an open fire. Tools. That's what we need that thing to spit out. The rest? We can make do on our own. When it dies, it's them tools we gonna want most of all."

Chakotay's gut tightened.

"I know you're right," Chakotay said. "And it's a solid plan. We need to reserve replicator power for tools and things we can't easily find."

"Until we find a source of metal, we got stone and wood to work with," Daryl said. "So nails an' shit's gonna go with tools. First thing I'm buildin' today is a bed for me an' Carol to share. Fuck sleepin' on them prison issued cots."

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"On the other end of the house, I think we'll be keeping our cots," Chakotay said.

"Only 'cause you want 'em," Daryl said.

"That's not exactly the case," Chakotay said. "It's not entirely up to me." He reached for one of the sticks that Daryl had piled up, but hadn't started sharpening. He selected a knife that fit his hand well from the pile that Daryl had near him—clearly part of his replicated hoard. "We need to replicate more seeds, too. Neelix sent down a few boxes, but more is always a good idea. We'll find plenty of plants and things to eat here, I'm sure, but at least we can know we'll have a few tastes from home. The planet is comparable enough to Earth that everything we've got should grow well here."

"You won't hear no complaints from me," Daryl said. "You know what you doin' with that stick?"

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"Don't underestimate me," Chakotay warned. "I grew up with my father teaching me everything that I needed to know to survive. I'm perfectly prepared to live without technology."

"Then we oughta do pretty damn good," Daryl said. "Just gonna be Kathryn that's gonna struggle."

Chakotay hummed.

"Don't underestimate Kathryn, either. Besides her courses on survival at the Academy, she's been in quite a few situations where many others wouldn't have survived. She enjoys creature comforts—like anyone, maybe, but she's entirely able to survive in even some wildernesses that you couldn't even imagine."

"Duly noted," Daryl said.

"Still, we—we welcome all the advice and expertise you can offer," Chakotay said. "You and Carol have, by far, spent the most time using your survival skills."

"How about we all just work together?" Daryl asked, some humor slipping into his tone of voice. Chakotay accepted with silence and whittled away at the end of the stick to make it pointed and proper for using as a spear to gather fish. "You don't think Kathryn's science experiment's gonna work out," he offered after a few moments of silence.

"What?" Chakotay asked.

"Her science experiment," Daryl said. "You don't think it's gonna work out. You're tryin' to pretend you think it is—for her benefit—but you don't believe it." Daryl looked at Chakotay when Chakotay looked at him. Daryl shrugged. "Don't underestimate me, neither. I'm real damn observant."

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"I already knew that," Chakotay offered. "I'm pretty observant myself." He sighed. "I believe she could find a cure. That shuttle is only Warp 4 capable, though."

"We ain't never catchin' up to Voyager," Daryl offered.

"And you can double or triple the seventy-year plan," Chakotay said.

"Forget that shit," Daryl said. "I don't normally speak for Carol, but I'ma speak for her now. You two pull outta here in that shuttle an' you goin' on your own. I've seen cans from fuckin' Costco that was bigger'n that shuttle. Carol's claustrophobic as hell. She might can be sedated long enough for you to stuff her in that tube when it was hooked up to Voyager, but she ain't gonna make it in no little shuttle like that. Besides—figurin' we got seventy or eighty years together, I'd damn sure rather spend it here, livin' the best we can—livin' a full damn life—than hurtlin' through space in a tin can. No offense, but you go—you two are goin' alone."

"I think we both know we're not leaving the planet," Chakotay said.

Daryl hummed to himself.

"But you ain't gonna tell her that?" Daryl asked.

"It means so much to her," Chakotay said. "And right now—if that's what gets her up in the morning and keeps her going?"

"I get it," Daryl said quickly. Chakotay looked at him and Daryl nodded his head before he went back to working on another stick he'd picked up. "I do. I get it. You wanna—give her hope. You wanna give her somethin' good. Somethin' to look forward to. Keeps her carin' about the future and workin' toward it. Somethin' that makes her happy. You'd give every fuckin' thing you got to give her what the hell you know would make her happy. Really, truly, happy."

"You want to make Carol happy," Chakotay said. He didn't mean it as a question. He only meant to prompt Daryl to keep talking. It worked.

"All I want," Daryl said. "Wanted it since—I seen how bad she was hurtin'. She never deserved it. Got out from under the asshole she was married to and then…lost everything. Life just fuckin' hit her in the face every which way she turned. You know? I shoulda been closer to her when them monsters went after Sophia. It shoulda been me that went after Sophia. It weren't. It was Rick that went after her first. Got there first. I did everything I could to put Sophia back in Carol's arms—back where the hell the kid belonged. But it weren't 'til later that I knew that every damn thing I done was in vain. Rick left her when he went after her. She was dead 'fore he made it back to the highway. I was lookin' for a corpse the whole damn time I went lookin' for her after that, and the whole time I was prayin' I could put that lil' girl back in her mama's arms."

Chakotay swallowed. His brain knew and understood everything Daryl was saying. His stomach, though, found it uncomfortable simply because he hated the idea of suffering—and he especially hated it for someone that he'd come to know as a warm, friendly, caring person.

"Her daughter?" Chakotay asked, already knowing the answer. Daryl ignored the stupidity and obviousness of the question. Instead, he simply hummed.

"Lost two little girls she—adopted. Ended up with. After Sophia. Then she adopted a son. Had to see his fuckin' head on a damn pike," Daryl said.

"I would say I'm sorry, but that doesn't seem like enough to say," Chakotay said.

"What the hell else is there to say?" Daryl asked. "Now it's three hundred years in the past and—we got a whole new life here. Right? A whole new lifetime ahead of us. And I don't care if I'm spearin' fish for the rest of my life, I'd be a fuckin' fool not to take advantage of what I got. Find the happiness we can have here. Make sure she gets as much of it as I can give her. And—I'ma start by spendin' this afternoon workin' on a bedframe we can share."

"I'm sure she's going to like that," Chakotay said.

Daryl hummed.

"I'ma start on it right after I get some fish, build a fire, an' set it up so Carol can cook," Daryl said. "And then I'ma walk around to try to figure out what else lives out here. See what's good for trapping and what we need to be careful of."

"You're sure there are animals out here we need to be careful of?" Chakotay asked.

"You know as good as I do how an ecosystem works. Prob'ly the same on just about any planet. This place is fertile. It's like Earth. We picked up that there was some animal life. Now—if there weren't predators, the place would be overrun with smaller prey. Somethin's gotta keep it in check or it would be crawlin' with whatever could procreate. We don't know what's here, but there's a whole damn world around us. So, I'm a do a little trackin'. Set a couple traps and snares. See what we get. I'd appreciate the—the wisdom of your people. If you got any of it to offer."

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"I'll see what I can do," he said. "I'd like to do what I can to help. I'm not bad at building things, either. I've built a lot, actually, in my life. I'd be happy to help you make the bed you want to build."

"That's fine," Daryl said. "But—what are you makin' Kathryn? I know your ass is planning something. I can see it all over you an' there weren't no damned reason for you to come out here this early if it weren't to start figurin' it out."

Chakotay swallowed down the smile that he felt creeping across his lips.

"That obvious?" He asked to the ground beside him where the wood shavings were going now that he was working on a set of smaller sticks that would clearly be arrows for a bow that he assumed Daryl would either make or replicate.

"Were you tryin' to hide? Because you ain't hidin' shit," Daryl said, laughing to himself.

"Kathryn doesn't know," Chakotay said. "She doesn't realize. Or she doesn't feel the same."

"Kathryn's scared," Daryl said. "There's a big damn difference. She ain't hidin' shit neither. And if you don't see it? It's 'cause you too much like a puppy followin' her around to see it." He laughed to himself again. "I talked to Carol about it. Last night. Couldn't sleep, so we talked. I mean—we're a damn good pair to talk about the mess you got, but…I made Kathryn get her ass in that room. The rest is up to you."

"It's not that simple," Chakotay said. "If she's not interested…"

"Scared and not interested ain't the same thing," Daryl said. "That's one thing me an' Carol both figured out. We'da given ourselves a whole lot more time together if we'da figured out that we were both scared shitless, and that didn't mean not interested. Listen—if I had more of that matin' fever handy, I'd cough all over Kathryn for you, but I don't have it. So that means you're stuck doin' this the hard way. Meaning—your move, Romeo."

"You're playing matchmaker?" Chakotay asked.

Daryl put his stick down and lit a cigarette.

"I replicated tobacco seeds, too. We gotta start workin' on a plan to get shit in the ground," he said. Chakotay ignored his digression. Daryl came back to the topic at hand, as Chakotay knew he would. "Listen—it's obvious you both got feelings. Forever's a long time if we play our cards right. If we don't find nobody else on this planet, there's four of us and—I'm willin' to fight over Carol. So—that leaves the odds pretty damn decently skewed in your favor. Hell—even back during the damn plague my odds weren't that good. You fuck this up? That's on you. The universe can't hand it to you no damn easier."

"She's devastated," Chakotay said. "Losing the ship. Her command. Everyone and…any chance of getting home."

Daryl hummed and stood up, gathering up some of his sticks.

"Sounds like she could really use some comfort," Daryl said. "Maybe you know somebody that's got some to spare. I'm goin' fishin'. You welcome to come if you want."


	27. Chapter 27

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**If you missed it, I posted another chapter earlier today, so please make sure you read them both! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"I'm a terrible cook," Kathryn said apologetically as she scraped fish scales off of the fish that she would later add to the pile for Carol to simply season with the replicated seasonings and put to cook on the little barbecue that Daryl had created for her out of replicated pieces. Carol's part of watching the fish until they were cooked might last a little longer than Kathryn's shared job of cleaning the fish, but it wasn't as though it was a great deal more effort.

"We're basically watching the fish while they cook," Carol said. She shrugged her shoulders and continued her messy work beside Kathryn. "It's not that hard, but I can teach you to cook."

"I didn't have time to learn before," Kathryn said. "I was going to be a Starfleet captain. I dreamed about it—forever. I was always dedicated to my studies, and we had a replicator. My mother prepared some food without a replicator, but I was truly a child of the twenty-fourth century. I always had a reason not to learn."

"And you became a Starfleet captain," Carol offered. "A very good one."

"For a short while," Kathryn said. She laughed to herself and Carol didn't believe the laugh at all. She was no psychiatrist, but she believed that Kathryn was definitely going to need time to come to terms with things. Carol and Daryl had discussed that, in some words, while they'd spent a little time holding hands across the distance between their cots and trying to fall asleep the night before.

"All things must come to an end," Carol said.

"If I can figure out how to replicate whatever is keeping us healthy here," Kathryn said, "then we could catch up to Voyager before she gets too far away."

Carol hummed.

She wasn't telling the woman, right now, that she had no intention whatsoever of crawling into the small machine that they called a shuttlecraft. It was closed-in and small. Carol found it difficult to breathe just looking at the thing.

"The planet is nice," Carol offered. "Paradise. So even if you don't find a solution…"

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"You're talking like you're already content to live here," she mused.

"My whole life has taught me that a location won't bring you happiness, Kathryn," Carol offered. "But people might. It's also taught me that happiness can be temporary, so you better hold onto it while you have it. Enjoy the hell out of every little second of it, if you can. I'm happy right now. And that's—it's not something that I always have or that I…always get to keep. So, I'm going to hold onto it. I've wasted it before. I'm not going to waste it this time."

"The planet makes you happy because it reminds you of home?" Kathryn asked.

Carol's stomach flipped and her breathing immediately picked up. She scolded herself quietly for having the reaction of a schoolgirl. Of course, she also reminded herself that, with eighty or so more years to live, she was hardly to be considered much older than a school girl by any old ways of looking at things.

"If it's not too—too ridiculous to say," Carol offered, pausing, apparently, long enough for Kathryn to feel like she needed to interject.

"Nothing's too ridiculous for you to say to me," Kathryn assured her. "I won't judge you."

"Daryl makes me happy," Carol said. "I think—he might be my home. Maybe—home isn't a place at all."

"That doesn't sound ridiculous at all," Kathryn offered. "It sounds—wonderful."

Carol put the cleaned fish to the side and took another from the pile of ones they had left to clean. She carefully scratched her nose by craning to brush it with her shoulder, wanting to avoid smearing everything from the fish all over her face.

"You could make a life here, too," Carol offered gently.

"All I know is being a captain," Kathryn said.

"That's bullshit and you know it," Carol said. She was suddenly surprised at her words and, judging from Kathryn's expression, Kathryn wasn't expecting to have Carol speak so candidly to her. "I'm sorry," Carol offered softly. "But—you had a life outside of Starfleet, Kathryn."

"Barely," Kathryn offered. "I was a Starfleet brat. My whole life has revolved around Starfleet."

"And now it doesn't," Carol said. "Now you're Kathryn Janeway—just…just that. Before the…before the plague? I was a housewife. My whole life revolved around making my abusive husband happy. And I never could make him happy. Because no matter what I did? He didn't stop beating the hell out of me because he was slightly inconvenienced by something in his existence."

"Carol—I'm sorry," Kathryn said.

"I don't want your pity," Carol said. "That's not my point. My point is that we change, Kathryn. We adapt. And maybe you thought your whole life was going to be Starfleet, but it isn't. I mean—it was. You did what you were supposed to do. You fought the good fight or whatever. You've done your duty. So—at ease, Captain."

Kathryn laughed to herself and traded a clean fish for the next one she quickly gutted.

"Are you sure you're not Starfleet?" She teased.

Carol laughed and shook her head.

"Who did you want to be, Kathryn?" Carol asked. "You said you were going to marry that man in the picture."

"Mark," Kathryn said.

"Who did you want to be when you married Mark?" Carol asked.

Kathryn sighed deeply after considering it a moment.

"A wife," she said. "A mother. And a Starfleet captain. I wanted to be it all. I don't think I knew how to be me without being Starfleet."

Carol laughed.

"Well—you can have all that if you want it. Once a day you can…give me an order or something," Carol said. "And—I'll still call you captain if it makes you feel better."

Kathryn laughed, but after a second of scraping the fish, the smile turned to a deep frown.

"If we stay here, we'll never see Earth again," Kathryn said.

"Paradise isn't so bad," Carol said softly. "Like I said—home is…a state of mind, Kathryn."

"We'll never see our families again," Kathryn said.

Carol nodded.

"It's hard," she said. "I know. I said goodbye to mine a long time ago. The real one and—to so many people I've accepted as family. Probably like you felt about your crew. But—we're not alone here. We can have a new family."

Kathryn smiled at her sincerely, though there were very clearly tears glistening in her eyes.

"I'm happy to have met you, Carol," Kathryn said. "And—I'm glad we're not alone…so we can—make a new family."

"Same," Carol offered. "Still, I know it's hard. Take your time. Just remember—there's more to you than just being a captain or just being a part of Starfleet or whatever. You're a whole person. And there's a whole lot more to you than that."

"I like the idea of that. But I'd still like to keep doing my research," Kathryn said.

"Everyone needs hobbies," Carol said, shrugging. Kathryn laughed to herself.

"And—I wouldn't mind learning to cook," Kathryn said.

Carol smiled at her.

"Now's as good a time as any to start," Carol said. "And you're already good at the hard part. You'll be making breakfast in no time."

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"You're sure it's safe?" Carol asked with a laugh when Daryl had situated both their cot mattresses onto the bed frame. The bed was made up. The blankets and pillows were piled on. It was waiting for them.

"You doubtin' the ability of both of us combined?" Daryl asked.

"I'm just asking," Carol said with a shrug.

"Chakotay's actually really fuckin' skilled at buildin' shit," Daryl said. "He said he's been buildin' structures and furniture since he could hold a hammer. He weren't lyin'. Spent two days makin' this thing. Sandin' it. Longest part was cuttin' the boards. Thank God for the replicator makin' every damn tool he could dream up."

"I never thought I'd hear you happy to have a replicator," Carol teased.

"Go ahead, woman," Daryl said, pushing her gently toward the bed. "Try it out."

Carol went and sat on the edge of the bed. The wooden frame that Daryl and Chakotay had wrestled into their bedroom didn't immediately break. It didn't even creak or wiggle. She relaxed into her position.

"Well?" Daryl asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm impressed," Carol said. "It was nice of Chakotay to help us—you know—build a bed."

"I owe him," Daryl said. "Workin' on a project."

"Another one out in the woods?" Carol asked.

Daryl hummed and laughed to himself. He took off his pajama shirt and put it on top of the dresser that had been beamed down as part of their modular home. Carol already knew what was on his mind, and she was in no mood to be coy, so she started unbuttoning her own pajama shirt. She'd really only needed the pajamas to keep her covered on the walk from the river, where they'd both chosen to bathe, back to the house.

Their to-do list was a mile long and they were constantly adding to it. There was a great deal that they needed to do to get everything set up and established so that they could settle in and live as quietly as nature would allow them all to live. They had discovered that, near their home, there lived a large amount of various kinds of birds. One kind was short, fat, and apparently unable to fly. They'd tested them, eating a small amount of the meat and waiting to see what happened, and they'd found that they were completely edible. Nobody got sick from the meat.

There were also odd rodent type creatures that reminded Carol of what might happen if tiny kangaroos and mice could mate. They were edible, and easy to snare.

In addition, they were already planning how and where to start to plant their seeds. They didn't know about the growing season, but some of the seeds were dormant—and therefore could wait until they were surer of their surroundings—while others were already germinating and needed to go into the ground. It was cool at night, but quite warm during the day. Their only hope was that it would be fine for the seeds, but they were prepared to cover them every night, if they had to, to try to save as many as they could.

With their free time, when they weren't all involved with what might end up being the difference between life and death for the whole of their very small group, they were invested in other activities. Kathryn worked with her experiments—which had not yielded any hopeful results in the past few days—and Carol helped her for company more than anything else. Daryl and Chakotay had been, without explanation, hiding in the woods and acting very secretive about their practices. Now, they all knew that they'd been building the bed frame as a surprise for Carol.

"You know—if you two keep hiding in the woods in your boys' club," Carol teased, "I'm going to start thinking there's something going on there and I'm just—getting in the way."

Daryl ignored her comment entirely and came to the bed—having already shed his pajamas and clearly without any interest in being coy—and pushed her backward as he practically crawled on top of her and over her to make his way onto the bed. She lifted herself up, as he gave her enough freedom to move, and worked her way out of everything she had left, dropping it over the side.

"It's a little cool," she said.

"We have blankets," Daryl assured her. He didn't cover her with a blanket, though. Instead, he touched her face before he kissed it.

She moved toward him and he gladly welcomed her. She tugged at the blanket and he stopped kissing her long enough to help them both under the blanket. Then he came back to her, kissing her lazily. It was clear he had no intention of rushing things—and they'd replicated tons of fuel for the lanterns to last them until they found an oil supply that would burn well, so he didn't even feel pressed to release Carol from the making out long enough for her to blow out their bedside lantern.

"So far, so good," Carol breathed out. "The bed's not falling."

"We'll test it good," Daryl teased. "Then we'll know for sure."

He dropped a hand between her legs to let her know—in case, by some chance, she wasn't able to figure things out—what he was talking about.

"What about Kathryn and Chakotay?" Carol asked. "Do you think they can hear us?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I don't really give a shit," he admitted. "Do you care that much?"

"I just don't know—is it rude?" Carol asked.

"Ain't rude," Daryl assured her. "If anything, it's an act of friendship. Comradery. Fuckin' support. If they can hear us, they can consider that shit inspiration."

Carol laughed.

"You're awful," she teased.

"Just too damn old to give a damn," Daryl said.

"I thought you were young now," Carol said. "I thought we both were. Practically teenagers."

Daryl hummed.

"That, too. Too damn young to give a damn. And some people need all the help they can get. Need a fuckin' nudge or—a good, hard shove."

"Not at all like us," Carol teased.

"Thank God for matin' fever," Daryl said. He covered her mouth with his own. He wanted to make it clear that he was tired of discussion. Carol returned the kiss, and she moaned her appreciation into his mouth as he squeezed her breast and teased her nipple. "Come on," Daryl said, tugging her toward him and changing his position. "Let's see how our buildin' skills hold up under pressure."


	28. Chapter 28

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I know some people don't like reproduced lines in fic, but I did reproduce the angry warrior legend. I couldn't write it any more suitably than the show did, so I used it directly.**

**I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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They were slowly settling, whether or not they wanted to.

Chakotay was finding that there was nothing really disagreeable about their lives on the planet. They woke in the morning with purpose. They worked all day on one task or another, and they went to bed at night ready to rest.

Chakotay was, perhaps, a little flustered by the preferred relaxation methods of their housemates—the sound of which drifted easily through the small house—but he usually drowned them out with stories that he told Kathryn in the absence of the conversations that she sometimes wanted to have.

She might protest to try to keep face, but she liked being talked to while she fell asleep. She would actively stay awake if the conversation was serious enough—like when Chakotay had discussed with her the tracks they'd found that clearly belonged to a large cat of some kind—but she drifted off whenever the conversation turned lighter.

Rather than be insulted by the fact that she slept so readily while he talked to her, Chakotay felt warmed by the idea that she found his voice soothing enough that it clearly alleviated the worries that she seemed capable of finding in a practical vacuum.

Kathryn had not completely accepted, yet, that they were going to remain on the planet. She continued working on her experiments. Her happiest moments, sometimes, seemed to be talking about what she'd found, what she planned to try next, or how close she hoped she might be to a solution. She ignored the fact that Voyager could be anywhere by now. She ignored the fact that they had no way to track the ship and would never catch up to it. She ignored the fact that they would be very unlikely to make the trip back to the Alpha Quadrant in the shuttle, even if that's what they all wanted.

And Chakotay didn't push her. She would get there on her own, and the last thing he wanted was to be the one who pushed her toward something that hurt her.

The bathtub had been a labor of love. It wasn't easy to build, and it had been time consuming, but he'd thought of her every second that he'd worked on it. He'd spent every evening working on it and, once it was built, Daryl had helped him finish it and make sure it was perfect. Then, while Carol had distracted Kathryn at their gardens, watering their sprouts—where Kathryn, surprisingly, showed she had an unexpected green thumb—Daryl and Chakotay had moved the tub out behind the house. It was close enough to the house to allow someone to hear a person in the bathtub if they should need them—since they had yet to lay eyes on the large cat that left the paw prints near their home—but it was far enough away to allow privacy while one bathed.

Daryl and Carol had taken their things and two bows, for protection, to go down and bathe in the river—and to probably do other things on the shore of the river—and Chakotay had shown Kathryn the tub that he'd built specially for her.

Now, she was taking advantage of the tub and relaxing while Chakotay worked on some plans for other building projects that he intended to begin since the tub was finished.

As someone in a somewhat established relationship that was becoming more established by the nanosecond, Daryl was almost constantly nudging Chakotay toward Kathryn. He assured Chakotay that Kathryn was simply scared of something.

And maybe she was, but Chakotay didn't want to be the one to scare her. He wanted to be the one that relieved her fears.

It was a thought that immediately came to mind when he heard her yelling out his name from the bathtub.

"Chakotay! Come quick! There's something in the woods!" Kathryn called.

Chakotay was out the door as quickly as he could be. He'd grabbed one of their better made spears, leaned ready against each door, on his way out, and he'd grabbed one of the phasers and flashlights, too, that they never touched. He had no idea what kind of animal he was about to face, but he fully intended to face it if it wasn't willing to run away.

As he came out the door, he realized the animal had not emerged from the woods. There was nothing present, at that moment, in the darkness except for Kathryn and him. Chakotay slipped the phaser onto the waistband of his pants and flicked on the flashlight.

He shined it into the woods. He didn't immediately see anything. He tried to prepare himself for something in the family of a panther, while he hoped for one of the short, fat birds that waddled around like footballs on toothpick legs.

"Get back, Kathryn," Chakotay commanded. "If it's the cat…"

"It's small," Kathryn said, making no effort to retreat at all from where she was standing beside the bathtub she'd been using. "I hear it in the trees."

That relieved Chakotay a little and he felt his muscles untangle themselves a little.

"Probably a bird," Chakotay said hopefully. "Something nocturnal. Like an owl." He shined the light up into the trees. He heard the rustling movements that must have alerted Kathryn earlier. He heard the cracking of a dead branch when weight was applied to it. He followed the sound and stopped when his light drifted over something moving. "It's some sort of primate," he said, amused to find the monkey-like creature.

Beside him, Kathryn hummed out her pleasure at seeing the little creature.

"Hello there!" She said, extending her hand upward toward the animal like she thought it might come to her. "Are you hungry? Is that why you're here? Oh—hello! We've moved into your back yard. I guess we have to be neighbors now. Do you want to come down? We might have something you want to eat."

The monkey seemed to regard her for a second, but then it screeched at her and, essentially, darted away. It moved quickly through the branches until it disappeared.

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"Oh well," she said. "I guess—it didn't want to get to know us yet."

With the dim light of the flashlight pointed off toward the trees, Chakotay took in her face. Her hair was pulled up and back to keep it from getting wet in the water, but some had fallen. It was damp and clung to her. She was clearly naked except the towel that was only haphazardly wrapped around her as a quick attempt to guard her modesty when she'd gotten out of the bathtub because she was unsure of what was around her.

Chakotay took in her full, barely covered form, and he found it difficult to breathe.

His body reacted. He was a man and, whether or not his brain had the full intention to be a gentleman in Kathryn's presence, other parts of his anatomy were a little less subtle about the desperation he felt to touch her.

He only realized he was staring when she turned her head toward him. He turned his head away, apologetically, and Kathryn pulled her towel a little tighter around her.

"Enjoy the rest of your bath," Chakotay said, ducking his head and walking away as best he could—hoping that Kathryn didn't look at him hard enough to see his very obvious, and quite uncomfortable, interest. "I'll be just inside. If you need me."

"Thank you—Chakotay," Kathryn called softly as he stepped into the house and, putting away everything he'd carried outside with him, sat down and closed his eyes, waiting for his almost painful predicament to resolve itself.

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Chakotay had been lying with his eyes closed for what felt like hours. He couldn't sleep, though.

Carol and Daryl were asleep now or, at the very least, they were being very quiet on their end of the house. The two had laughed about the coldness of the water—perhaps loudly, or perhaps simply at a normal level with such tight quarters—and they'd apparently done their best to warm each other from the chill. Now everything was quiet.

But Chakotay was still lying on his cot with his eyes closed.

His father had always told him not to bother the spirits with anything foolish. He didn't think it was foolish, though, to express to them how frustrated he felt over things with Kathryn and how desperate he felt. He didn't mean her any harm. He only wanted to love her and care for her in the most honorable way that he could. He didn't think it was too much to ask for any blessing that could possibly be bestowed upon him to allow him to do such a thing.

Beside him, Chakotay heard the now-familiar sound of Kathryn tossing and turning in her bed. She had trouble sleeping. Nearly every night it was the same.

"You need to sleep," Chakotay offered into the darkness.

"You're awake?" Kathryn asked back.

"If I weren't, I wouldn't be able to tell you what's best for you right now." Chakotay said with a laugh. "You need to sleep."

Kathryn clearly did not go to sleep. Instead, she lit the lantern next to her cot—there were two small tables between their cots, each with a lantern— and illuminated the room with the jumping light of the flame.

She sat up, on the edge of her bed, and pushed her blanket back.

Her hair was down, her feet were bare, and Chakotay was sure that the nightgown she'd replicated had to be an effort to protect her modesty, because he wasn't almost certain that ancient convents issued less covering nightwear. The expression on her face made it clear that she was dealing with something, and she was happy to find him awake.

He wasn't going to sleep anyway.

He sighed and sat up. He wasn't as modest as she was, and he pulled his blanket around his waist to cover his underwear and to act as an insurance policy against any other unpredictable occurrence that may happen. The blue nightgown was only a little more flattering than a potato sack, but that really mattered very little to him. He was attracted enough to Kathryn Janeway that just seeing her eyes would be enough to have his whole body starving for the chance to touch her.

"What's on your mind, Kathryn?" Chakotay asked, making it clear that he intended to give her his undivided attention.

"Chakotay, we have to talk about this. I—I think we need to—define some parameters. About us." Kathryn said.

Chakotay felt like his stomach twisted itself into a knot.

"I don't really know if I can—define parameters, Kathryn," Chakotay said. He shook his head at her. "And I'm not really sure that I want to. But—I can tell you a story. An ancient legend among my people."

Kathryn smiled softly. She laughed quietly to herself.

"I need for us to talk about this, Chakotay," she said. "I don't need you to tell me a bedtime story."

"It's not a bedtime story," Chakotay said. "I wish you would listen."

Kathryn nodded her head. She visibly relaxed. She protested, but she enjoyed stories. Chakotay did his best not to smile.

"It's about an angry warrior who lived his life in conflict with the rest of his tribe. A man who couldn't find peace, even with the help of his spirit guide. For years, he struggled with his discontent. The only satisfaction he ever got came when he was in battle. This made him a hero among his tribe, but the warrior still longed for peace within himself. One day, he and his war party were captured by a neighboring tribe, led by a woman warrior. She called on him to join her because her tribe was too small and weak to defend itself from all its enemies. The woman warrior was brave, and beautiful, and very wise. The angry warrior swore to himself that he would stay by her side, doing whatever he could to make her burden lighter. From that point on, her needs would come first. And, in that way, the warrior began to know the true meaning of peace."

Kathryn smiled when she was sure that Chakotay was finished speaking. She leaned a little across the divide that the two small tables created between their beds and between them.

He loved that smile.

"Is that really—an ancient legend?" She asked.

Chakotay laughed to himself. He shook his head and looked at her, careful to hold her eyes.

"No," he admitted. "But—that made it easier to say." Her expression softened and his heart, having sunk before, seemed to lift itself up to beat around inside his chest at a fast pace. "Kathryn—I can't define parameters. I can—and I will—always respect the boundaries that you set for me. But I won't set more."

Kathryn reached her hand toward him and Chakotay reached out, across the distance that might as well have been a million miles long, and wrapped her small hand in his. He leaned forward, straining slightly, to kiss her fingers. She allowed him that. She pulled her hand free, but instead of taking it back, she turned it and touched his lips.

He got up and, as carefully as if he were approaching an animal that was likely to bolt from the room, he came slowly to her cot and sat beside her. She turned her body to somewhat face him. She looked like she might cry and she wrung her hands in her lap.

"I have to admit that—I never was any good at relationships," she said. "Even—before. I spent most of my time dedicated to work and I expected…I expected everyone else to handle things. To guide them. I've never been home longer than—a week or two." Her frown was sincere. "I don't even know if I know what I'm doing. Especially when—I'm not Starfleet anymore."

Chakotay's chest ached badly enough that he might almost believe that he was having a heart attack. He caught her hand and pulled it back to him. He kissed her fingers. He squeezed her hand in his.

"If you need me to lead for a while, I can do that," Chakotay said. "I've never loved you because you were Starfleet, Kathryn."

Her eyes went wide. He couldn't take it back and he firmly decided that he wouldn't. He offered her a soft smile. He leaned toward her and, when she didn't pull away, he tentatively pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was somewhat tight-lipped, but he didn't take it heart. He could hear her breathing. He knew it was rapid. He could practically hear her heart pounding. Her eyes were wide.

"They're only words, Kathryn," he said softly, "until you don't want them to be. But—I won't take them back. Even if you don't return them, I still mean them. And if you need time, then you take time. We have an abundance of it. But—I still won't take them back."

He got up after a moment and moved back to his cot. He wanted to give her space. Time. He wanted her to have whatever she needed. No matter what she decided, at least he'd said his peace. And, if nothing more, he'd fall asleep with the sensation of her soft lips and fingers against his own lips.

He closed his eyes. After a long moment of silence, the lamp was blown out. He listened for the sounds of Kathryn getting comfortable in her bed. Instead, he heard the familiar tossing and turning. Still, he decided to let her lie with her unease for a while. He heard her toss her blanket aside in what he assumed was frustration. He heard her leave her cot. He heard the two gentle footfalls of her bare feet on the floor.

He felt her leaning over him in the darkness.

"Chakotay," she said quietly. He hummed at her. Her voice was a little shaky. "I don't want you to take the words back."

"I won't," he offered, swallowing back a smile.

"I wish—you could…" She started. She stopped.

"Whatever you want, Kathryn," Chakotay offered quietly.

"I wish you could hold me," Kathryn said.

Chakotay's heart pounded wildly. It was just holding her—but how he'd dreamed of holding her. He threw back his own blanket and made as much room as the cot allowed. He held arms out to her in the darkness.

"Come here," he said.

"The cot's too small," she protested.

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"Trust me," he assured her. "We'll make it work."


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**I don't want to spoil too much, but I do feel like my TWD readers who have not seen Voyager might need me to address something (Voyager fans already know all about New Earth), especially since I've seen a few comments about it. If you're not familiar with the way Star Trek works, let's just say there are a lot of events and "episodes." Don't get too depressed about Voyager's fate just yet. OK? I won't say more because I don't want to spoil much.**

**I do hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!**

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Waking with Kathryn in his arms was worth any amount of sharp pain shooting through Chakotay's back and shoulder muscles. He gritted his teeth against the discomfort. As he came fully into awareness, he realized that, through the night, he'd mostly moved Kathryn on top of him to lie against him as he lay on his back. He also became slowly aware of another problem—one that Kathryn absolutely would not be able to ignore if she gained consciousness.

Chakotay tried to figure out how to move Kathryn without her waking. Factoring in the stiffness of his muscles, her dead weight, and the fact that the cot was not nearly large enough for both of them, he decided it was impossible.

He prepared for his humiliation even as Kathryn started to stir.

Chakotay had seen Kathryn shortly after she'd been roused from sleep. He'd even woken her when she'd drifted off during times when she wouldn't allow her body proper time to sleep so it simply took it against her will.

He'd never seen her wake quite like this before, though. She woke slowly. Softly. She didn't rush the greeting of the morning. And when she lifted her head, she looked directly at him, her blue eyes staring practically into his soul.

He was prepared to give her an explanation about biology and how he meant no disrespect with the condition of his body—which she must be aware of as it made itself known between Chakotay and Kathryn. She didn't demand an explanation, though. Instead, she smiled.

"Good morning," Kathryn said.

"Good morning," Chakotay responded.

"You look tired—did you sleep at all?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay smiled to himself. He had slept, but he hadn't slept much. Still, he wouldn't dare say anything that would discourage Kathryn from coming back. He'd gladly give up sleep and comfort just to hold her.

"Just waking up," Chakotay said. "How'd you sleep?"

"I slept wonderfully," Kathryn said, her smile making it somewhat evident that she wasn't lying in any way. Chakotay smiled back at her.

"I'm glad," he said. "If—you don't object, I was thinking that I might get Daryl to help me build a bed frame? One that's large enough for both of us?"

The color drained from Kathryn's face entirely and she sat up, pulling free of him. Chakotay held to her arms just enough to steady her as she found her feet. She readjusted her nightgown since it had become twisted during the night. In place of the colorless countenance she'd worn only seconds before, her face was flushed with red as she sat down on the side of her own cot and touched her face with her hands.

Chakotay had seen it before, but never on Kathryn. She was wrapped in true anxiety. Nearly panic.

"We don't have to," Chakotay said. "I just thought…it would be more comfortable. But if it's too much…"

"You don't understand," Kathryn said. "You don't understand…"

Chakotay immediately crossed and sat down next to her. He ignored any feelings of modesty that he might have had. This wasn't the time for that. He quickly grabbed Kathryn's hands and wrapped them entirely in his. He squeezed them, trying to ground her.

"I don't," he said, realizing this was much larger than a bed frame. "I don't. I don't understand, but I want to. I want to understand everything, Kathryn."

"You won't be able to," she said. She shook her head at him. "You won't…think of me the same."

Chakotay felt like he'd been sucker punched in the chest. The air left his lungs too fast and too completely. It didn't matter what she said. Whatever she was thinking about was causing her enough pain that it was palpable. Her pain sucked the air out of the room.

"I may not always think the same of you, Kathryn," Chakotay said, keeping his voice as steady as he could, and still squeezing her hands rhythmically in his, "but I'll never think badly of you. I'll never think less of you. I promise you that."

Kathryn laughed to herself, but Chakotay could almost hear the ice in her laughter. It wasn't sincere.

"You can't promise that," she said.

"But I can," Chakotay said. "Please, Kathryn. Tell me—whatever it is. Give me a chance to prove it to you."

For a moment, Kathryn searched his face like she was trying to believe him. She searched his face like she was looking for evidence of truth. He held her hands tightly in his and held her eyes with his. He swallowed against the ache that the pain on her face and the tears brimming in her eyes caused him. Finally, she relaxed just a little. She seemed prepared to believe him.

"I was engaged," Kathryn said.

"Mark," Chakotay said, trying to help.

"No," Kathryn said. "Well—yes, but…I was engaged before Mark. His name was Justin."

Chakotay nodded his head. He didn't really understand, but he did know that patience was a virtue sometimes and, for Kathryn, he could be infinitely patient.

"We met when he was part of the team that rescued me when I was captured by Cardassians," Kathryn said. "The year we were engated to be married, we were on the Terra Nova. It was a test flight. We crashed into an iceberg. My father and Justin were lost."

Chakotay pulled Kathryn to him and she stiffly came to let him hold her.

"I'm so sorry, Kathryn," Chakotay offered, doing his best to soothe her from old memories that were coming back.

Kathryn pushed away. She shook her head at him.

"I had a chance. I might've been able to save Daddy or I might've been able to save Justin," Kathryn said. "But I couldn't save them both. I hesitated, Chakotay. I didn't know who to save and I couldn't make up my mind and I hesitated—and because of that? They're both dead. I killed them both."

Chakotay let go of her hands to catch her face in his hands. He rubbed his thumbs against her cheeks. He felt the softness of her skin. He shook his head at her.

"Listen to me," he said, "you didn't kill either of them. The world did, Kathryn. The iceberg. The crash. You didn't kill them."

"And I didn't save them," Kathryn said.

"We've all hesitated. We've all lost. We've all made mistakes."

"I lost two of the people dearest to me," Kathryn said. "I thought I would die after that. I wanted to die—sometimes? I still want to die, Chakotay. I didn't even tell Mark that. I still feel like I'm losing my mind sometimes. Like everything's dark, and cold, and heavy."

Chakotay pressed his lips to her forehead. He pressed his lips to her cheek. Her breathing was fast and shallow and indicative of being just at the edge of a panic attack. He had seen some darkness in Kathryn—flashes of it here and there. He knew that she lived with a great deal. But a Starfleet captain often did, and Kathryn had seen her share of conflict and struggle. Now he knew she'd seen even more than he'd ever imagined before.

Her cheek was soft and salty when he pressed his lips there. She took a deeper breath with the kiss. She calmed a little. He kissed the other cheek. She drew another deep breath. She calmed a little more. He pressed his lips gently to hers to steal the exhalations of the second deep breath she drew. Then he looked into her eyes again.

"Let me into the dark with you, Kathryn," Chakotay said, "and I will help you find your way back out. Every time. A thousand times. I've been in the dark myself." He shook his head at her. "I won't shame you for it. And I won't tell anyone else about it. Not if you don't want me to."

He knew that, to Kathryn, it was important to keep up appearances. She wanted to appear immortal and untouchable. Honestly, she did a good job at both. Chakotay was only thankful, at this moment, to see the vulnerability that was underneath her carefully constructed and maintained façade.

Kathryn frowned at him.

"I loved Mark," Kathryn said.

"I know you did," Chakotay said.

Kathryn shook her head.

"I didn't love him like I loved Justin. I loved Mark—like a friend. He was my best friend. And he was there for me when I lost Daddy and Justin. Mark, my mother, my sister—without them…"

"You might have never been the captain of Voyager," Chakotay offered. "And that would have been horrible."

"I wouldn't have gotten everyone lost in the Delta Quadrant," Kathryn said.

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"In your shoes, another captain may have lost the ship entirely," Chakotay said. "They may have destroyed the entire Ocampan race to try to save themselves the trouble of exploring the Delta Quadrant, and they may have ended up inadvertently destroying themselves and their whole crew in the process. But more than anything? If you hadn't been the captain of Voyager? I would have never met you and I might've lost my own life—swallowed up by my own darkness."

"How can I help you if I have my own demons?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"Because every day since I've known you," Chakotay said, "I've woken up feeling like I had a purpose. I had a reason to keep going. I had something to look forward to—even if I didn't know what it was. And when I see your face? Kathryn—I have felt nothing but warmth and happiness when I see your face since the first day I met you. Even then—when you were my enemy—I felt drawn to you in a way that I could never explain. My people have a belief that every person is created with...another half. You can live your entire life without finding that person, but you'll never know completion and true happiness until you find that person."

"A soulmate," Kathryn said.

Chakotay nodded his head. Kathryn always calmed when he told her a story. She focused on his voice. His words. And she calmed. Chakotay took advantage of that fact to calm her now.

"Our translation is roughly the root," Chakotay said. "There are some plants that can exist without roots. They grow. They may even appear to thrive. But they have no roots. It's always the strongest plants that have roots—deep roots—that keep them anchored and alive. Until you find your root, you are existing, but you are not the strongest version of yourself that you can be." He raised Kathryn's hand to his lips and kissed it. "I knew I found my root the first time that you stood in front of me and everything in my body and soul called out to you. As long as you're here? I'll have my strength."

"That's beautiful," Kathryn said, much calmer than before. "But—I'm scared, Chakotay. I think—I know—I loved Mark as a friend. He never had the same pull over me that Justin had. I think I loved him because he was safe. He was outside of Starfleet. I thought that nothing could take him away. I could have the life I dreamed of having—with a husband, and children, and a home—without the worry. Mark was safe."

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"And he's still safe," Chakotay said. "Probably married and living in the white house with the picket fence. Just like you said. Just because he's a civilian doesn't make him safe, though."

"It means that I wouldn't—I probably wouldn't—ever have to make that choice again. I'd never be responsible for—killing him."

"You didn't kill anyone," Chakotay reiterated. "But if you need to feel safe, Kathryn, then trust me to do what you thought I could do as your first officer. Trust me to keep you safe. Because there's nothing more important to me than doing just that."

"I don't think you can keep me safe from…what scares me the most," Kathryn said.

"Tell me what it is, and I'll try," Chakotay assured her.

"I never loved Mark the way that I loved Justin," Kathryn said. "I thought I'd never love like that again. And—I didn't. Not until—I met you."

Chakotay's heart felt like it stopped suddenly. It felt like it lay still a moment in his chest before it began to dance with some ancient rhythm he'd never felt before—driven by a hope beyond all hope that he'd ever had.

"I love you, too," he said. Tentatively responding to the words that she hadn't quite said.

"I don't want to hurt you," Kathryn said.

"Then just stay with me," Chakotay said. "Don't push me away, Kathryn. That would be the greatest hurt you could cause me."

"What if something happens and you die?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay smiled to himself.

"Then at least I know that I'll die happy," Chakotay said. "Fulfilled. If you'll allow me that."

"I don't want to lose you," Kathryn said.

"And you never will," Chakotay assured her. "Once we're bonded together, my spirit would be with you always. No matter what happens."

"You know that's not what I mean," Kathryn said.

"I can't promise you immortality—mine or your own," Chakotay said. "But—please don't fail to live, Kathryn, because you fear dying."

Kathryn stared at him hard. Her eyes were soft. There was so much there that Chakotay wasn't used to seeing. He treasured seeing her so open to him. He imagined how much deeper there was still left to go.

"I love you," Kathryn offered softly.

"I love you, too," Chakotay assured her.

Kathryn reached her hand up and started working the buttons at the neck of her blue nightgown like she intended to take it off. Immediately Chakotay's gut recognized the movement. He recognized something in her eyes. She was going to offer herself to him. But there was too much hurt still present in her eyes. The emotion was too raw.

He reached his hand up and stopped hers with his fingers. He shook his head gently at her.

"We have time," Chakotay said. "Forever. Spend the day in your garden." He laughed to himself. "I know you pretend to hate it, but I hear you humming there. The nurturing brings you peace. Find Carol—she's gone hunting with Daryl. Take her to clear your traps and laugh with her. Think about—everything that we've said here. Everything we've promised. The spoken and the unspoken. I'll get Daryl to help me with a bed frame. I promise you, though, that it will come with no obligations. When you've relaxed, and when you're ready—and only when you're ready—you tell me what you want for both of us."

"You don't get a say?" Kathryn asked, laughing to herself.

"I've said what I have to say," Chakotay said. "Either way, I'm still going to love you, Kathryn. You just decide how active a part you want to play in it."

Chakotay leaned and kissed her again. She returned the kiss, this time, and it took more control than Chakotay expected to pull away from her. His body showed his interest, and he didn't try to hide it. He simply got up from the cot and went to pull on his clothes, determined to let Kathryn have her time to think.

He had a bed to build—because he had a pretty good idea of what she would decide. At least, if nothing else, he had a great deal of hope about what she would decide.


	30. Chapter 30

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here! **

**I'm not sure if you saw yesterday's post, so please don't miss that chapter if you didn't see it before!**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"Don't be an asshole," Daryl said. "You like—fuckin' owe it to me."

Chakotay laughed to himself and drank several large gulps of water from one of the jugs that they used. The river water looked clean enough, straight from the source, but they boiled it to be sure and stored it in some jugs that they're replicated. A few smaller ones allowed them to drink the water as they moved from one task to another.

There were still several hours before nightfall.

Chakotay and Daryl had spent the entire day building a bed frame. With the tools that they had replicated, though, and learned to use with the last bed frame and the bathtub, and using the supplies that was leftover from the wood that was planked for those projects, the two men were able to put the bed together and make it satisfactorily stable in record time. It was already inside the little house and all four cots had been stacked neatly against a wall in the chance that they needed them for making different furniture later.

Now, Chakotay was following Daryl around as he checked snares and wrung the necks of a few fat birds that would be turned into their evening meal with a few of the leafy vegetables and root vegetables that had proved to be non-toxic.

Carol and Kathryn were off somewhere, checking the insect traps that Kathryn had set for her research.

"I owe you information about my sexual activities?" Chakotay asked with amusement.

"So, you admit there are some activities?" Daryl asked. He laughed, too. "That's an advancement right there. Fuck it. I help build the bed an' get it in the damned house. Damn near break my back an' that elbow ain't gonna be the same for at least a couple days. The least you can do is tell me if that means that there's somethin' goin' on, or if you gonna just have me haulin' that bed right back out of there."

"The bed stays," Chakotay said. "One way or another—it's better designed for long term sleeping than the Starfleet issued cots. But—I don't remember demanding information about your private activities with Carol."

"Hell—that tells me that there ain't shit goin' on worth knowin' about," Daryl said. "You don't gotta ask about me and Carol because you already know it. I'm not shy about my sex life and neither is Carol. Life is too damn short—and that's even with seventy or eighty years stretched out in front of us. I'd say I'm livin' the dream, but I didn't even dream it could be like this. She's wakin' me up in the mornin' asking if she can—if she can take care of shit for me. Askin' me if that's alright like I'ma tell her hell no it ain't alright and scold her for startin' my morning off about as good as it can. So, you don't gotta ask me shit. My sex life is so damn good I was tellin' the little monkey that lives around here about it this mornin' 'cause we scared the shit outta his ass catchin' a quick minute alone out here."

Daryl looked amused with himself when Chakotay pressed his fingers into his eyelids. Daryl was the kind of man who liked to see if he could get someone to squirm.

Of course, Chakotay also had no doubts that Daryl and Carol were doing their part to sexually christen every single square foot of their new planet. They had been waiting ten years, according to Daryl, and they were both anxious to make up for lost time and were unapologetic about their enthusiasm.

It was oddly refreshing, but also terribly enviable.

"The bed is just a bed," Chakotay said. "For sleeping." He laughed to himself. "Don't look at me like that. I don't need your pity."

"You might not, but your dick does," Daryl offered, nonchalantly wringing the neck of a fat bird and dropping it into the sack before he bent down to reset his snare.

"We've talked," Chakotay said.

"Talkin' is good," Daryl said. "Carol and I like to talk."

"We'll see where it goes from there," Chakotay said.

"Bed's a start," Daryl offered.

"Bed's a start," Chakotay echoed.

Before they could continue the conversation, the wind suddenly whipped by them in a gust that pushed Chakotay sideways a few steps to compensate. Daryl, too, surprised by the sudden strength of it, toddled in an effort to stay upright and not drop the bag he was holding.

"Fuck was that?" Daryl mused.

"Wind," Chakotay said.

"Tornado winds? Shit…"

Chakotay didn't have time to speculate too much about the odd gust of wind because it was followed by several more. Before he knew it, they were being whipped back and forth as wind came from one direction and then another. It was so sudden that neither of them really knew what to do except to reach out to nearby trees and hold on against the wind and the sand that stung their faces.

"What the hell is happening?!" Daryl barked.

"I don't know!" Chakotay yelled back, barely able to hear him over the wind. Suddenly, the sand that was stinging his face was replaced by the sting of rain. It was hard, cold rain. It bit into Chakotay's skin as the fierce wind threatened to blow them both off their feet.

"I hope Carol an' Kathryn's got cover!" Daryl yelled, voicing the thoughts that immediately surged through Chakotay's mind.

When the sharp bolt of electricity cracked loudly as it split the sky around them, the bolts beginning to dance wildly around them, Chakotay's heart began to pound.

"It's an ion storm!" He yelled.

"What?" Daryl asked.

"It's an ion storm!" Chakotay yelled again. "They're very dangerous! They could be killed if they're caught in it!"

Without any need for Chakotay to try to explain why he felt they were somehow better equipped to handle the storm than Kathryn and Carol would be—though his real reason for feeling they would better equipped was owing to the fact that they weighed more than the women and, therefore would be able to keep their feet better and move more effectively against the wind—Daryl took off running, as fast as the whipping wind would allow him, in the direction where the women had gone earlier.

"Carol! Kathryn!" He yelled out.

Chakotay didn't hesitate to follow him. He bent his face down, trying to shield it slightly from the stinging rain, ignored the electric crackle of ionically charged particles around him, and ran as fast as he could.

"Kathryn! Carol!" He yelled, hoping that one of them could hear them.

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"Oh! Look!" Kathryn declared, dropping to her knees with her trap in her hand as she scrambled for her case.

Carol pushed the case toward her, but she didn't bother getting to her feet. The sun felt wonderful. The grass this close to the water was soft. Kathryn was cleaning bug traps, but Carol was mostly enjoying the relaxation and the company. She liked hearing Kathryn talk about her feelings—especially when those feelings didn't revolve around the absence of a bug that she hadn't already seen—and Kathryn seemed particularly full of feelings today.

"Something new?" Carol asked.

"He might be the one," Kathryn said. She deposited the bug into one of the collection cups that she had. For every new bug they came across, she filled one of the cups. So far, none of the bugs had proven to be the one that had bitten them. There was some different protein strand in their DNA or something equally confusing that Carol didn't understand at all.

Carol waited until the case was locked and moved out of the way to bring up the discussion they'd been having. She waited until Kathryn stretched her legs out and rubbed them against the grass in an almost feline manner.

"Speaking of—possibly being the one," Carol teased. Kathryn eyed her, but there was a smile playing at her lips that said that she welcomed picking the conversation back up—even if she might pretend otherwise. "You've already said you love him. The hesitation—it doesn't make sense."

"What if—I make the wrong decisions and something happens to Chakotay? As a captain…"

"But you're not a captain," Carol said. "Here, you're Kathryn. I'm Carol. You're Kathryn. And if we're being honest? I'm probably the best person to tell you that shit happens, Kathryn. Whether you want it to or not? It happens. And no matter how careful you are or—how high you build those walls? Something awful can always manage to happen."

"I feel weak just admitting this—small, even—but…I don't know if I would want to live in a world without him. Not now that I know what having him in my world feels like."

"And you think that—keeping your distance is going to somehow make that better?" Carol asked. She laughed to herself. "Of course, you do. We all do. Like if I pretend it doesn't hurt, then it won't. But that's bullshit and you know it. Maybe it's weak to feel the way you do, but if it is? We're all weak. I'm just going to give you one piece of advice. You take it if you want it."

"Ok," Kathryn agreed.

"As far as relationships go," Carol said. "And that's all I'm talking about. Men. Relationships. I've never really regretted the things that I've done. I made some terrible choices, but there was something good about each of those choices. There was something that made that choice—as terrible as it was in hindsight—exactly what it had to be at that moment. Well…maybe I regret some things. A little. But—my point is that…the greatest regret I have about relationships isn't what I did. It's what I didn't do. Kathryn—for the first time in my life. In my whole life—I feel really alive. I feel—loved. I feel—valued. I feel full. Like when you're really hungry and you eat until you're just…satisfied. And the only thing that I regret is that I let a million other things keep me from feeling that for years when I could have had it—years when I needed it."

Kathryn considered Carol's words a moment. A wind gust came, from nowhere, and blew hard against them. Both of them laughed in response as it sent hair whipping around both of their faces before it was gone.

"Whirlwind," Carol mused. Kathryn hummed.

"I really do love him," she offered.

"Then stop trying to be his captain," Carol said. "Just be—Kathryn. Love him. Let him love you."

Kathryn didn't get a chance to respond. The whirlwind that had innocently whipped around them wasn't alone. Almost instantly, the wind picked up violently. They stared at each other a moment, and both fought against it to scramble to their feet. Rain came almost as suddenly as the wind. It was freezing and it slammed into Carol hard enough that it stung and she imagined it might be bruising them.

"We have to get cover," Carol yelled out.

Kathryn was already gathering up her case. The case normally wasn't too heavy, but the wind grabbed it and snatched it. It threw Kathryn roughly to the ground and Carol stumbled around and did her best to drag Kathryn back to her feet.

"Leave it!" She called out as Kathryn reached for the case again. They were touching, but Carol was almost certain that Kathryn couldn't hear her over the howling wind and the driving rain.

"What if it's the right insect?" Kathryn called back. "I'll need it."

She screamed when a bolt of lightning unlike any that Carol had ever seen before crackled through the sky and struck down nearly at her feet.

"It's an ion storm!" Kathryn yelled. Carol didn't have to know what that was to know that she didn't want to be in the middle of one. She held tight to Kathryn's arm and did her best to tow the woman with her toward the house. Kathryn held the case that she refused to abandon until the wind caught it again. The gust was particularly strong and it threw both of them to the ground. For just a moment, Carol lie there and wondered if she had the muscle strength to push up against the wind that felt like it had her flattened against the ground. Around them, the lighting crackled and hissed and shook the ground where it touched down.

Carol heard the cry—practically a battle cry—that Kathryn made as she pushed up against the wind. Carol followed suit. Soon both of them were on their feet again, clinging together to remain upright. Kathryn tried to drag the case with her, but it was flat and caught the wind, threatening to throw them off balance again.

"Leave it!" Carol demanded.

"It might be the right one," Kathryn lamented.

"Then we'll find another fucking bug!" Carol yelled. She pulled on Kathryn. "I'd rather come out of this with you than the bug!"

They didn't have much time to fight about their situation. Carol didn't know that Chakotay and Daryl even knew where the traps had been set. She knew that Daryl couldn't possibly track in this weather—no matter how talented he was. Still, she heard them both yelling out their names.

It was a welcomed sound in the storm. The only thing that was more welcomed was the moment that Carol felt Daryl's arms wrapping around her and, for just a moment, shielding her from the icy sting of the wind and rain.

"Come on," he said, his face close to hers. "We gotta get inside. It's only gettin' worse."

Carol agreed and let Daryl lead her. Behind them, Chakotay brought Kathryn as they all struggled back toward the structure that they now called home.

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**AN: If you're enjoying, please let your friends know about the story. I know some people are possibly shying away because they don't know about a couple that isn't originally their OTP or maybe because they're not familiar with one show or another. If you're enjoying, please let people know!**

**And, as always, if you're enjoying, please let me know! Thanks so much for reading! **


	31. Chapter 31

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl had seen some bad thunderstorms in his life. He'd been through countless hurricanes that blew some category four winds as far inland as the little trailer where he'd ridden them out with his brother, Merle. He'd once lived through an earthquake, while hunting with Merle near Charleston, that had rocked the old building around them. He'd lived through a tornado, holed up in a barn, with Carol and the rest of their group.

Daryl had been at least somewhat frightened by storms before.

No storm had ever been as terrifying as the ion storm. The electricity in the air made his hair stand up on end all over his body. The ground shook. The house shook and trembled like it might fall around them. Despite the cover of the house, they weren't entirely protected from the supercharged elements outside. The four of them huddled under their table—the only additional protection they could find—and waited out the storm. It seemed to rage on for hours and hours, and it only seemed to get worse.

Everything that hadn't been on the floor at the start of the storm was on the floor not even an hour after it had begun. Daryl wrapped Carol in his arms and, following Chakotay's lead, practically covered her body with his own in the same manner that Chakotay covered Kathryn. Daryl assumed the position was to offer comfort, but it was also to act as a shield against whatever the table might not stop.

Daryl felt a little moved by the fact that, before the whole thing had really died down, Carol had drifted off to sleep in his arms. Despite the fact that things were still entirely touch and go, she'd apparently gotten comfortable enough with her situation to simply sleep. He'd even gone so far as to check her, quickly, to make sure that he hadn't accidentally smothered her. She groaned at him, disapprovingly, and smiled at him before snuggling back against him like the wet floor was the best place to sleep that should could imagine.

Of course, they'd slept in worst places—weather aside.

Chakotay had it a bit harder than Daryl did. Kathryn had been as terrified as Carol, in the beginning, by the supercharged weather around them and the fact that they had not true way to take complete cover. She'd been further upset by the fact that the shaking of the house and the intrusion of the elements into their space threw the equipment around until pieces of it breaking off, and flying through the air like shrapnel, became one of the primary things that Daryl and Chakotay were blocking, to keep it from striking the women, with their bodies acting as cover.

Kathryn's hope had been very intwined with that equipment that was shattered around them. She'd been delaying the acceptance that they were never leaving the planet. The destruction of everything made that acceptance sink in far too hard and far too fast.

She eventually fell asleep—wrapped so tightly in Chakotay's arms that she'd practically disappeared as an individual—but it had only been once the storm had died down to little more than a light rain and a whistling wind outside.

"We're alive," Daryl breathed out quietly, when he was almost certain the storm had passed. Neither he nor Chakotay moved to disturb the women that were finally asleep.

"We're alive," Chakotay seconded.

"Do these—ion things—have eyes?" Daryl asked.

"What?" Chakotay asked.

"Eyes," Daryl said. "You know—like hurricanes? Is it comin' back?"

"They're more like thunderstorms," Chakotay offered, finally understanding. "It's gone now."

"Thunderstorms from the pits of hell," Daryl muttered. "Prob'ly damn near morning by now."

"Doesn't matter," Chakotay said. "We all need to get as much sleep as we can get. Let the storm finish. Tomorrow—or today—or whenever we get out there, we'll survey the damage and clean up what we can."

"She's gonna be upset all her stuff got broke," Daryl offered.

Kathryn had literally worn herself out. Daryl was sure of that. She was sleeping from sheer exhaustion, and not from the odd and early comfort that Carol had seemed to find in being buried under Daryl's body while the storm raged around them.

"She's going to be fine," Chakotay said. "She just as to come to terms with it."

"She might welcome a little help with that," Daryl offered. "Come on—let's get everybody to bed."

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Carol woke enough to walk herself to the bedroom, but it was clear that she did not intend to wake entirely. Daryl steered her to their bed, and he wrapped his arms around her and stole a kiss as they stood beside the bed.

"At least the wind didn't blow rain this deep in," Daryl offered. "Bed's dry."

Carol kissed him lazily. Her lips lingered on his. She let her tongue dart out and she laughed quietly before begging a deeper kiss once more. Daryl humored her, though the kiss was far more playful than deeply passionate.

"I'm tired," Carol said, pulling out of the kiss. "I would sleep in the bed even if it were wet." She began to peel off her soggy clothing. Daryl followed suit. He laughed to himself.

"I know you would," he said. "You was as content as you could be sleepin' in that puddle on the floor."

Carol laughed. She pulled her hair down from the knot where some of it was still fastened up. Most of it had fallen loose from the wind and the day's struggles. She shook it loose, the water making her curls draw up the length of it more dramatically than when she kept it fastened back with the tightness ironing out her natural curls.

"It was warm," she said. "Safe. And we weren't doing anything else."

"I ain't mad you slept," Daryl said. "Still—hell storm like that, I was surprised you could."

Carol smiled at him. She sat down on the bed, unapologetic about her complete nudity now that she trusted him to accept her body just as it was.

"You make me feel safe," she offered.

"Always gonna try to do that," Daryl said.

"I know," Carol said, matter-of-factly. She yawned and let herself under the blanket. She groaned at the obvious comfort of the bed. She patted the bed next to her. "You always have. Come on," she said. "Keep me safe and warm some more."

Daryl laughed to himself and, finishing ridding himself of the rest of his clothes, he made his way to his side of the bed, crawled under the blanket, and worked his way over to her. She moved enough to readjust herself so that he could comfortably hold her, and then she sighed with a great deal of satisfaction.

"Everything of Kathryn's got destroyed," Daryl said. "Shit was flyin' everywhere."

"I know," Carol said.

"We ain't never leavin' this planet, Carol," Daryl offered.

"I know that, too," Carol said with a yawn.

"You don't care? Once and for all? That we're stuck here together?" Daryl asked.

Carol laughed to herself.

"I've already been stuck at what I thought was the end of the world with you," Carol offered. "And I've told you before—I don't care where we go, as long as we're there together. Besides, it's honestly the nicest planet I've ever been on."

Daryl laughed to himself and snuggled against her.

"You ain't wrong, woman," he mused. "Go back to sleep. We got a shit ton of work ahead of us tomorrow."

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Chakotay had managed to move the table, lift Kathryn, and carry her to the bed before she woke.

She had cried long enough that she was possibly dehydrated and she was definitely exhausted. He hushed her quietly as he lowered her to the bed.

"You have to sleep," he said. "And you have to stay still until I put you down because I don't want to drop you."

She sat up as soon as he'd rested her on the mattress.

"You built the bed," she mused.

"We spent the whole morning working on it," Chakotay said. "We hardly finished it before the storm. I meant for us to have more time to talk, but…do you mind if I at least share it with you? It's pretty late. Or early, depending on how you look at things.

Kathryn frowned to herself, but Chakotay didn't take it personally or believe, in the least, that the frown was meant for him. She patted the bed beside her as an invitation. Chakotay nodded.

"I'm just going to change," he said. "I'm soaked."

He stepped behind the privacy screen that they'd created the first night to keep from having any awkward moments as roommates. He might have hopes and dreams about their future together, but they weren't there yet and he wasn't going to make Kathryn uncomfortable. She watched him, though, even as he changed behind the screen.

Foregoing any other cover for his modesty beyond his underwear, he made his way back to the bed. As he sat down, Kathryn left the bed.

"If you're uncomfortable," he offered, "then you can take the bed and I'll bring a cot back in and dry it off."

"No," Kathryn said. "It's just—I'm wet, too. From the rain."

Chakotay understood her intentions, then. She slipped behind the privacy screen and fumbled with her clothing. It was dark enough that Chakotay was almost certain that her modesty could have remained intact without the screen. Either morning had not broken yet or the storm was still covering enough of the sky to block out the early morning sun.

Chakotay closed his eyes. He felt his body drift and rock in the odd way that it had always done when he was exhausted to an extreme point. With his eyes closed, he could almost feel like he was aboard an old-fashioned ship that had set sail on the ocean.

He'd almost drifted off to sleep when he heard Kathryn softly say his name. He jumped when he opened his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Kathryn breathed out.

"It was just a—nervous reaction," Chakotay said. "From being almost asleep."

"You're exhausted," Kathryn said. "We should just—go to sleep."

It was only at that moment than Chakotay realized that Kathryn was standing beside the bed—she was standing next to him—but she'd rid herself of the soggy dress she'd been wearing. Instead of replacing it with the blue nightgown, however, she stood beside Chakotay in nothing more than a bra and panties. Even in the very dim light, Chakotay could tell that she felt, perhaps, a little awkward and exposed.

And she was beautiful, no matter the light.

His heart kicked into overdrive and every bit of the desire to sleep that he'd felt left him. He moved over, making room for her on the side of the bed that she seemed to have chosen, even though it was the side that he'd already physically claimed.

She didn't say anything. She slid into the bed. She pulled the cover around her. She worked her body close to his.

When the cold skin of her stomach—still a little damp—touched Chakotay's bare skin, other parts of his anatomy gave the call to his whole body that sleep was for the weak. Kathryn kissed him, this time, and she laughed quietly when his interest must have become known to her.

"Does this mean—you don't want to go to sleep?" Kathryn asked.

"Not right away," Chakotay said. "Not if that's—what you want." Kathryn kissed him again and Chakotay stilled her when he pulled out of the kiss, his fingers caressing her cheek. "I know you've been through a lot—emotionally—in the past few hours, Kathryn…"

He felt her fingers—as frigid as the rest of her thanks to the long-term exposure to the icy rain—find the band of his underwear. He hissed as they found him and wrapped, icy cold, around him. She whispered a soft apology to him and stroked him gently. He felt like he lost all his breath and the cold didn't matter any longer.

"I know what I've been through, Chakotay," Kathryn said softly, peppering his face with kisses as she stroked him. "And—I know what I've lost. I don't want to talk about that. There's—only one thing that I want to talk about now."

She pulled her hand free. Chakotay sucked in some air. To say that his body was starving for her was an understatement. If she turned him out of the bed, he would go, but he wouldn't be happy about it. He didn't think he could even pretend, at this point, for her benefit.

"Anything," he said. "Anything you want, Kathryn."

He touched her. He let his hands trail over the soft skin of her stomach and sides. He rubbed them over her back. He dared to brush them over her breasts—still covered by her bra. She reached her hand up, caught his, and he let her direct him.

She brought his hand down to brush the cotton of her panties—still damp and cold. They were the ones she'd been wearing.

She kissed him again.

"I don't want to talk about—what I've lost," she said. "I want to talk about—everything I still have to gain."

Understanding, Chakotay covered her mouth with his as his hand found its way inside her panties. She rolled onto her back as his fingers slipped through soft curls. He touched her—found the warmest part of her, though it was certainly wetter than even the rest of her—and teased her with his fingertips.

After a few moments with no protests, he took off his underwear. She rid herself of her bra. He worked her underwear down her legs and dropped them over the side of the bed where everything else had collected.

The sun was beginning to rise outside. The room was growing lighter as the day came to life around them. None of that mattered, though, as Chakotay exchanged hungry kisses with the woman that he'd dreamed of holding for years. The scratch of her short nails down his back was one of the few sensations that helped him realize that he wasn't dreaming. This wasn't some cruel trick of his imagination.

"You're sure," he breathed out, positioning himself above her. Everything in him begged her to be sure.

She responded by spreading her legs and opening herself entirely to him. She scratched his back gently, again.

"Gentle," she said. "It's been a few years."

Chakotay's mind screamed out with a happiness unlike any he'd ever felt before as he covered her mouth with his own and slow eased himself inside of her. He stopped, fully seated inside her, to give her a moment. He kissed her. Rubbed her face. He'd often found it difficult to believe that someone as amazing as her could be real. It was doubly impossible to believe that she was real now. He told her as much as he felt her body relaxing around him, accepting his presence.

"I can hardly believe you're real, Kathryn," he breathed out.

Kathryn let out a breath that sounded like she'd been holding it. She smiled at him. She kissed his face and ran her fingers through his hair.

"I'm real," she said. "But—you better know…and maybe it's a little late to be telling you this…but…I get very attached. Once we do this? I'm not going to want to let you go. Ever."

Feeling that she was relaxed around him, Chakotay responded by rolling his hips and tentatively thrusting into her. She opened her mouth to him in response and he smiled to himself. He repeated the gesture a few times, savoring the way it felt to be tangled so intimately with her.

"That's good," he breathed out in between thrusts that she met with enthusiasm as soon as she had taken a second to adjust to his rhythm, "because—I'm not ever letting you go."


	32. Chapter 32

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Cleaning up after the storm took days.

Trees and all manner of branches were downed all around them, but miraculously none of them had fallen on their little shelter. In a turn of amazing luck, as well, nothing had disrupted their little garden patch.

Though Daryl had always believed in God, he hadn't always believed in miracles. He had also rarely believed that God was looking out for him in particular. After all, he'd always reasoned, would some higher being that was interested in Daryl's life and well-being allow for everything that happened to him in his life?

Now that he was spending every night sleeping with the woman that he loved—and he still tested those words on his tongue and in his mind often because it was so strange and so refreshing to be able to say them, out loud, whenever he liked—Daryl was starting to believe more in the old adage that good things come to those who wait or that there's always some kind of plan in place. He was a little bitter over the fact that he had to shovel through so many years of his shit-show life to get here, but if he had another seventy or eighty years of this, he might be willing to forgive the rest of his sorry ass life.

And that higher power, if Daryl was dedicated to attributing occurrences in his new life to the power, had left them their food, shelter, and lives. If he was searching for sunshine after the storm, he could also be thankful that they'd been left with more easily accessible firewood than they'd need for a long time.

They spent days—all four of them—working from the moment they left their beds until the moment they returned to them. They stopped for breaks when needed, they prepared food for each meal, and they laughed at each other's stories that they chose to share about their lives.

And nobody really talked about the fact that there was a twinkle in Chakotay's eyes that hadn't been there before. Nobody really talked about the fact that Daryl and Carol usually woke, now, to the sounds of their neighbors involved in some morning activities all their own.

Nobody talked about how they sat a little closer and how, every now and again, Kathryn might even rest her head against Chakotay's shoulder as they all sat and talked after their evening meal and enjoyed the flickering flames of the campfire.

Daryl wanted to say something but, so far, nobody else had said anything. There were always at least three of them together or in very close range of one another. Even when Daryl went hunting, he often went on his own to clear the traps closest to them, and he never had the opportunity to catch Chakotay off on his own. He'd wanted to simply breach the subject, but Carol had urged him not to do that. She reminded him that most people liked to talk about their relationships, but nobody liked to feel forced to talk about them. She reminded him, too, that this was new for their companions and that they seemed, in all honesty, a bit timid. They were still settling in, and Carol figured that the last thing they wanted to do was startle them into regressing a few steps backward from where they'd finally arrived.

Daryl didn't say anything because Carol didn't want him to say anything. It wasn't necessary anyway. They all knew, whether or not they discussed it over the stews that Carol was starting to master creating from their local ingredients.

After enough days of cleaning and clearing that Daryl lost count of the days in the monotony of it all, most of the mess was finally conquered. The few things that were left fell to Daryl and Chakotay to clean because they could move the logs better, and having four people involved in the process was simply a case of too many cooks in the kitchen.

As soon Daryl had his window of opportunity, he pounced on it.

"So—we gonna pretend this shit ain't official or what?" Daryl asked.

He saw the smile immediately cover Chakotay's face before he did his best to swallow it down.

"What are you talking about?" Chakotay asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You know what the hell I'm talkin' about. I already told you that I'm observant. And a blind man could see the way you lookin' at each other. I ain't deaf, neither."

Chakotay smiled to himself as he helped Daryl move one of the logs to their pile.

"What do you want me to say?" Chakotay asked.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders and laughed.

"Truth is, I don't know," Daryl said. "Both of you look happy. You happy?"

"Happier than I ever thought I could be," Chakotay offered.

"Kathryn OK?" Daryl asked. "Seems to be, but…"

"She hasn't told me any differently," Chakotay said.

"Then it's good, I guess. What it ought to be. Do we have to go on pretendin' that we don't all know what the hell's goin' on or…? 'Cause that shit's gettin' kinda exhausting," Daryl said.

"I think—we can be as open as we want," Chakotay said. "There's nobody here but the four of us, after all."

"And that monkey," Daryl said, reminding Chakotay of the primate friend they had that lived near their shelter. He disappeared for days on end, but he came trotting back from time to time to watch them from a distance.

"Somehow—I don't think the monkey cares," Chakotay said.

Daryl hummed his agreement. He gestured toward another log.

"That one's small," he said. "Let's get it next. Take a break. We've got more logs here than we know what to do with."

"I might have some ideas of what to do with all of them," Chakotay offered.

"Yeah?" Daryl asked. "What?"

"Let's get that log on the pile and go check on lunch," Chakotay said. "I'd rather discuss this with everyone at the same time."

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Daryl let his hands move over Carol's back. He felt the sharp angles of her shoulder blades. He let his fingers trip down the bones of her spine. He spread his fingers over the soft skin at her hips, and he shifted her forward just a little before he moved his hands up to start the trip down again.

He could barely push them any closer together. She was already sitting in his lap. He rested against the headboard of the bed, and she sat facing him. Neither of them bothered with clothes in the quiet darkness of their room. There was nothing to be ashamed of anymore, and both of them were still sweating from the time they'd spent together only moments before. The cool bite of the air around them was welcomed for a bit longer, and then they would scramble for the blanket to trap their shared body heat.

For the time being, he was just enjoying the moment. As much as he loved sex with her, he loved the quiet moments like this just as much—though he might not ever admit that, because he was pretty sure that his brother, Merle, would have disapproved of such a thought.

"A chimney and a fireplace deep enough for a good fire," Carol said, continuing her happy musing over the home they'd discussed earlier.

"You can cook inside," Daryl agreed. "Takes out the concern about what to do when it rains. Fireplace should keep the whole place decently warm. Bedrooms'll still get cold in the winter."

Carol smiled at him. She kissed him softly. If his body wasn't so exhausted, the kiss alone would have left him seeking more of her attention. As it stood, his body simply couldn't—or wouldn't—tolerate anything more for the time being. She understood that, but she didn't think that the affection needed to end, and he was inclined to agree with her. He loved the mischievous smile she gave him when she pulled away. Her nose crinkled with the smile.

"We'll just have to make our own heat in the bedrooms," she offered.

"Chakotay and me talked about buildin' chimneys on either end of the house," Daryl said. "Fix it so that every bedroom has a fireplace. They don't have to be quite the size of the one in the livin' area, but they could be deep enough to hold a decent supply of wood for a fire that'll burn all night. Then we don't have to worry. No matter how cold it gets, we'll be ready for it."

"We'll find out about the winter soon," Carol offered. She shivered, and Daryl hugged her closer to him. He didn't know if the chill came from talking about the winter, or if it came from her body finally settling back to its normal temperature.

"Cabin won't be ready for a couple months at the very least," Daryl said. "And that's with all of us workin' an' nothin' slowin' us down. We gonna get a real taste of the winter here this year."

Carol touched his face. Her expression softened, though a hint of a smile kept the corners of her mouth somewhat turning upward.

"You look worried," she said.

"If it gets too cold," Daryl said, but he didn't finish. He didn't have to. Really, Carol required very few words from him. "I'm always worried."

She affectionately stroked his cheek.

"I'm not," she said. She laughed quietly to herself. "Don't worry. I won't let you freeze."

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"You're sure you don't want your own space," Chakotay offered.

"You mean—my own bedroom?" She asked.

Kathryn laughed to herself. She sat on the edge of the bed braiding her hair. She was wearing her blue nightgown, but it wasn't entirely buttoned. Chakotay didn't take it personally. She'd only slipped it on after they'd had sex—when he'd gone to relieve himself—because she was cold. The cold was well and truly starting to settle in around them. To try to save it, they covered up their tiny garden, each night, with the tarp that Daryl had replicated before their replicator, somewhat damaged by the storm, started to go on the fritz and only produce, correctly, about a fourth of what they required.

Chakotay was dressed, too, in the loose-fitting pajamas that he'd replicated as a barrier against the cold.

Kathryn's acceptance of the cabin and, more than that, her enthusiasm over the idea of a having a comfortably built home, spoke a great deal about the fact that she was growing content with the idea that they would call the planet home for, more than likely, the remainder of their lives.

"Are you trying to tell me something, Chakotay?" Kathryn asked after a moment. "Like—you'd rather not share a room with me?"

Chakotay laughed to himself because he could hear the teasing in her voice. He came and sat down on the bed next to her.

"Never," he said. "I meant—well, I guess I assumed that we'd stay together. I only wanted to make sure that you're not upset that we won't have a cabin that's just our own."

Kathryn considered it a long moment before she answered, and Chakotay appreciated that. He'd rest better, moving on with drawing up the plans for the cabin so that they could start to build it, if he knew that he was really doing what Kathryn wanted.

"I think it's safer for us to be together," Kathryn said. "And it's been months, Chakotay. I'm used to them. I like having them nearby."

Chakotay nodded.

"Then we'll keep them nearby," he said.

It was true. They'd spent months on the planet's surface, already, and they'd grown accustomed to one another. They were comfortable with one another in a way that only those who have nobody else can truly grow to be comfortable. Rather than feel bothered, now, in any way with the sounds that drifted through the small shelter, Kathryn and Chakotay took some happiness from knowing that their companions were healthy, happy, and enjoying their lives.

That was especially true now that Kathryn and Chakotay were finding their own settled happiness.

It was simply easy.

None of them had any unreasonable expectations for anyone else. Everything that happened around them, and between them, happened at the pace that simply seemed to be natural. The work was sometimes hard, but it was a rewarding kind of hard. Their meals were welcomed and enjoyed more than any food that Chakotay could recall—which was especially remarkable given the fact that Carol mostly made them simple stews from meat and vegetables they'd tested for toxicity—and their bed was welcoming after a hard day, even though the nights might last longer than their retirement to the bedroom indicated they would.

They would build their separate sleeping spaces connected with a communal living room in a cabin that would allow them more room to spread it. It would allow them more creature comforts—such as fires to keep them warm—and it would be sturdy and built to withstand the ion storms. After all, Chakotay wasn't inclined to believe that the ion storm they'd seen would be the last.

The cabin that they would build together would truly be their home—the start of a new life together, for all of them.


	33. Chapter 33

**AN: Here we are, another chapter. **

**I posted one earlier, so please make sure that you read that one before reading this one! **

**I hope that you enjoy! Please let me know what you think! **

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"This leaves a sitting area for each of us," Chakotay said, gesturing to the carefully drawn plans he'd made for the cabin. He'd been slaving over it for more than a couple of weeks. He was sure of that, but it was going to be worth it to have the structure exactly like they wanted it to be. Each time he was sure that he'd finished the plans, someone else raised a new concern that needed to be addressed. This was going to be their home, after all, for possibly the rest of their lives. They needed it to be something that made all the occupants happy—and that was no small feat with four different opinions going into absolutely every little detail.

So far, they were essentially joining two small, identical cabins, with a large, communal, living area.

Kathryn had added small bathrooms for each couple—complete with tubs—when she'd sadly realized it was far too cold for her outdoor tub, even if they did use hot water.

Carol had changed the living area plan to separate the cooking and sitting area enough that the heat from a long-term fire wouldn't make it absolutely unbearable, but it also wouldn't separate whoever was cooking from the rest of the group by too much.

Daryl had added windows because the cabin hadn't been planned with enough at the start and, without them, he feared that Carol—and everyone else—might get claustrophobic. The air, as well, might get heavy to breathe, especially in the winter, without more ventilation than they'd originally planned. He'd also added exit doors in each of the areas that Chakotay was calling the "suites" so that they could very easily escape from the bedrooms if there were a fire and such a thing was necessary.

It was Chakotay who had made the latest in the series of changes.

"So, it's comfortable like our own little house," Daryl said.

"But we don't have to give up being close to each other," Kathryn confirmed. She'd already talked over some of the changes with Chakotay.

"It also leaves the plan open in case we want to expand or make changes. From each suite, it would be easy to add onto the cabin. We could even build any additions we want to make before opening up areas in the wall. It would mean we'd never have to worry about closing off part of the house to add to it," Chakotay said.

"It's perfect," Carol mused, leaning over Chakotay to admire his work.

"So, when we starting on it?" Daryl asked.

Chakotay shrugged.

"If nobody else has any changes," Chakotay said, "we can start tomorrow. We'll need to check the ground, first. See if it's frozen."

"That's somethin' better left to when the sun comes up," Daryl offered.

"There's really no hurry anyway," Chakotay said. "I think everyone should sleep on it tonight, at least. Make sure there are no other changes we want to make before we start setting up foundation posts and mapping out the structure."

"We've got a cabin to build," Kathryn said softly, her hands going to each of Chakotay's shoulders as she stood behind him. He felt her knead his shoulder muscles. "We should probably go to bed so we can start sleeping on these final plans."

Chakotay laughed to himself. Even though progress would be slow, and even though it would take them months to finish their new home, they were all anxious to see the project get started. He reached up a hand and affectionately squeezed Kathryn's hand. He smiled to himself when she leaned down and rested her head against his before delicately kissing his temple."

"Bed's a good idea," Daryl offered. "And we'll pray for warm enough weather to dig for them posts."

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Kathryn reached for another hunk of the charred meat from the platter where Carol had piled it up.

Daryl called the creatures "hoppers," and he'd learned that they bred at an alarming rate. With animals going underground and everywhere else for the winter, the hoppers were some of the most abundant food that they had. He'd built a covered pen for them and they raised them for food, feeding them bugs and worms that they caught for them.

Kathryn tried not to focus on the knowledge of where their food came from. They had to survive, and this was how they were going to do that. The replicator barely worked, and they would soon run out of power for it anyway—not to mention the raw material necessary to produce anything. They saved what power they had, at this point, in the case of a tool emergency.

They ate only what New Earth had to offer them. And, though the planet was a practical Eden in the warmer months, it was clear that they were only hoping the winter didn't get any harsher.

Daryl and Carol had built a smokehouse. The two of them were good hunters, so they had stored up some meat, but fresh meat was preferred when it was available. They had finally met their cat-like beasts—large animals that reminded Kathryn of saber-toothed tigers she'd once read about from an ancient past—and they'd killed a few of them that had been set on attacking their camp.

They saved everything. Any hides were being saved for clothing, since they could no longer replicate it, and Chakotay and Daryl had insisted the claws, teeth, and bones of the animals could be used as weapons and tools.

Kathryn had never been fond of the idea of killing anyone or anything without reason, but she found it comforting to know that they truly did their best to use every part of the animals that they killed.

Their garden stayed covered most of the time, and they kept their remaining seeds protected to plant in the spring. When the weather warmed, they planned to build a boat and go exploring down the river. They hoped to find even more that the planet might have to offer when they moved beyond their claimed patch of land.

But they were surviving. And, despite the fact that their survival needs kept them on their toes in some ways, they were living happy lives.

Kathryn had never imagined that she could be this happy with such a simple life—one entirely void of Starfleet—but she felt better than she had in years. The stress of this life was a very real stress of survival, but it wasn't the kind of stress that she'd faced in the past.

As she ate, she preferred not to think about the fact that the hoppers were oddly like kangaroo-legged rats, especially not when she ate more than her fill of them at breakfast. They were delicious and the warm meat made her feel satisfied and ready for the work that the day would hold for all of them.

The ground was cold, but not frozen. They could break ground today. They could start to build their home.

She chewed through another piece of the warm meat, careful not to choke on the juice as she laughed to herself over Chakotay's story—which he was using to entertain all of them—about how ridiculous they had probably looked a few days ago when he and Daryl, convinced that something might be living in a burrow they found not far from the house, had tried to run the unknown creature out. They'd tried to be prepared for anything—possibly something as deadly as their saber-toothed neighbors—and both had dramatically overreacted and nearly killed each other when the occupant of the burrow scurried out, quickly and ferociously. It was only after they'd nearly beaten the ground to death—missing the animal in the process of their need to be "fast"—that they realized it was little more than an angry lizard-like animal that, despite its bravado, really didn't seem interested in hurting them as much as it was simply disgruntled by being driven out of its burrow by two over-curious and clueless people wielding branches as clubs.

They were all laughing when Daryl suddenly held up his hand to hush them all.

"What's that noise?" He asked loudly.

"What?" Kathryn choked out around her food.

"That noise," Daryl said. "What is it? Hush! Be quiet a minute! What the hell is that?"

"Maybe it's the lizard," Carol coughed out. Instead of hushing everyone, her suggestion brought a round of laughter. Daryl got to his feet, clearly a little annoyed with their inability to stop laughing long enough for him to track down the noise.

"What does it sound like?" Chakotay asked, hushing them with hand gestures to try to help Daryl.

"It's a whistling noise," Daryl said.

"I don't hear anything, Daryl," Carol said, sincerely, after they'd been quiet a moment.

"Me either," Kathryn seconded.

"I heard it," Daryl said. "It was—it was some whistling."

"Maybe it was one of those cones on a branch," Chakotay said. "Maybe it got put in the fire. You know how those things sort of whistle before they pop."

"I ain't heard no pop," Daryl said. He wandered off, in search of his hissing noise, and the rest of them returned to breakfast, this time chatting a little more quietly. Kathryn was almost certain that Chakotay was right and something had ended up in the fire that had simply made a strange noise.

That was, she was almost certain of that until Daryl returned.

She heard the whistling and hissing noise as Daryl approached the small group of them again.

"Kathryn?" He asked.

He held out his hand, palm up. In his palm were two combadges—Kathryn didn't even know who of the four of them they belonged to. Two of the combadges had been destroyed and the other two, which now rested in Daryl's hand, had been damaged. Kathryn couldn't recall the last time she'd seen them. She'd assumed they might have been tossed out with some other destroyed supplies that they'd moved out of the house.

Now they were both whistling and hissing in Daryl's hand as they were both activated to convey a message that sometimes faded in and out.

The message, when Kathryn heard it, made her heart almost stop, entirely, in her chest.

"This is Tuvok to Captain Janeway. Tuvok to any member…stranded on New Earth…Come in. Captain Janeway. Tuvok...you copy?"

For a moment, they all remained in silence and stared at the combadges like they were haunted or possessed. Maybe, even, for a moment they all believed that they were. The badges had been silent a long time. Tuvok belonged to a past that they'd all been forced to leave behind. Voyager should be around six months—or perhaps even more— away by now.

Yet the combadges had come to life, hissing and spitting like the iguana-like friend that Daryl and Chakotay had rudely run out of his warm burrow.

With her heart thundering in her chest and her breathing inexplicably shallow, Kathryn took the combadges from Daryl. She fingered them, a moment, thinking how strange they felt in her calloused palms. She activated one.

"Captain Janeway to Tuvok," Kathryn said. "Go ahead. I copy. Tuvok? Can you read me?"

"I can hear you, Captain," Tuvok responded. "Are you able to receive my communications?"

"There's some static," Kathryn said. "Our equipment was damaged in a serious storm. I can read you, though."

"Have all the members of the party survived?" Tuvok asked.

Kathryn smiled to herself. She'd forgotten how practical he could be.

"We're all alive. We're doing—very well, actually. I don't understand, Tuvok, how you're able to communicate with us at such a long distance."

"We are six hours from a being close enough to transport," Tuvok said.

Kathryn was almost certain that she hadn't heard that correctly. Around her, furrowed brows said that everyone else was trying to digest the message, and they were finding it all much harder to digest than hoppers and the boiled field oats.

"I'm sorry?" Kathryn responded. "Commander—I heard that you were six hours from being close enough to transport. I must have lost part of your message."

"We will be close enough to beam the party aboard in six hours," Tuvok said.

"Voyager should be—at least six months from here," Kathryn said.

"As acting captain," Tuvok said, "I consulted with my ship. We discussed the fact that even a year was not too much to spare on our trip if it meant that we would return with our full crew."

"The virus," Kathryn offered.

"As acting captain," Tuvok said, and Kathryn's stomach clenched. He was being careful to remind her that she'd transferred captaincy to him. She already knew he was about to tell her that he'd gone against her orders, but he was making it clear that she shouldn't hold that against him when he'd acted in his own command position, "I made the decision—with the help of my crew—to speak with the Vidiians."

"I told you not to put the ship at risk," Kathryn said quickly.

"With all due respect, Captain," Tuvok responded. The next part of his message vanished in hissing and crackling. When he came back, Kathryn had to ask him to repeat himself. "It was done to avoid a threatened mutiny."

Kathryn doubted things were that dire. Tuvok, however Vulcan he was, would use whatever facts they had in whatever way worked best—especially for something like this. Any "mutiny" had likely involved even Tuvok.

Kathryn's stomach churned at the reality that was sinking in it. Suddenly the gut full of hoppers that she'd eaten wasn't sitting as well as it had been a few moments before.

"Am I to assume that things went smoothly with the Vidiians?" Kathryn asked.

"We were able to get the information that we needed," Tuvok said. "The ship was not damaged and no crew members were lost. When we arrive at the point where we can successfully beam equipment down, we'll send hyposprays." Kathryn only had to ask Tuvok to repeat himself twice to get the whole of the message.

"How long will it take for the cure to work?" Kathryn asked.

"Its effects are immediately," Tuvok said. "We've inoculated the rest of the crew against the virus, should it be brought onboard. In theory, you should be completely cured at your time of arrival. However, the doctor will run scans to be sure that there will be no ill effects to anyone."

"Less than six hours," Kathryn said, hoping the sinking feeling didn't come through in her voice. "We'd better start—getting ready. Contact us when you're fifteen minutes away."

"Aye, Captain," Tuvok said. "And may I say, we are pleased to find you all in good health."

Kathryn smiled to herself, not fully feeling the expression.

"We're pleased to hear from you, too," Kathryn said. "We'll be ready when you arrive. Janeway out."


	34. Chapter 34

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I have written and posted two today (32 and 33), so please make sure that you go back and enjoy those chapters before you read this one! **

**I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think! **

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"I don't want to talk about it later, Kathryn," Chakotay said as he packed the very few things that they had to actually take back the ship with them.

They would leave the shelter. They would beam up what they could gather together of the damaged electrical items so that B'Elanna could salvage parts of things. They would bring back only their personal belongings back with them, and all of them had brought relatively little from the ship.

Outside, Daryl and Carol were freeing the last of their captive hoppers, and they were simply saying goodbye to the place that they'd called home for all this time.

Also, they were giving Kathryn and Chakotay time.

Kathryn couldn't look any more like she was ready to melt into a puddle on the floor if she tried. She wasn't even doing a good job of pretending that she wasn't upset. She worked diligently at getting her hair into a bun—something she hadn't done in a while—and every now and again she growled audibly at her hair and started over like her hair was misbehaving. Chakotay knew, though, that her hair wasn't the reason for her bad mood.

"What do you want me to say, Chakotay?" Kathryn asked.

"I want you to say that you're not going to shut me out, Kathryn!" Chakotay barked, louder than he meant to. He didn't apologize for his feelings. "I want you to say that—this won't change things."

Kathryn stopped struggling with her hair. She turned to face him. The tears on her eyelashes were not caused by frustration with her hairstyle and Chakotay knew that.

"Of course, it'll change things," Kathryn said. "It changes everything. And it's the first time in my life that I've regretted becoming a Starfleet captain."

Chakotay crossed the room then and stopped keeping his own distance. For just a second, he scolded himself. Since the call had come through, some hours earlier, he'd heaped the weight of everything back on Kathryn's shoulders—after he'd promised her that, from now on, he'd help her carry everything.

Chakotay pulled Kathryn into him and she came readily. She rubbed her face against him, clearly seeking comfort.

"It doesn't have to be different," Chakotay said. "Nothing has to be different."

"I'll be your captain," Kathryn said.

"Couples are allowed to serve together," Chakotay said. "And I was a captain before. We're not crossing rank lines too dramatically. Besides—this happened off the ship and off-duty. We were relieved of our positions at the time."

"It would be a conflict of interest," Kathryn said.

"We're stuck in the Delta Quadrant for seventy years, Kathryn," Chakotay said, a little frustration rising in his chest. "Everything is a conflict of interest. We've already talked about Voyager growing to be multi-generational. On a ship that size, everything is going to be a conflict of interest and, therefore, nothing is. It's just going to be called 'life' on Voyager. To hell with what Starfleet would say. They're in the Alpha Quadrant. In a situation like this, we're on our own. We have to make the best decisions we can. That's true when it comes to relationships as well."

Chakotay pushed Kathryn away just enough to be able to see her face. It was damp with tears and he let them fall. She needed to cry them all out and he understood that. When Tuvok made the call that they were ready to start beaming up, Kathryn would have to morph back into Captain Janeway. She'd have to look like her normal, composed, strong, unbothered self again. She'd have to leave behind her tears for a cabin that never got built where she could spend her evenings sharing a meal with her friends—her family, at this point—before bed.

Chakotay kissed her forehead tenderly before he pulled her back to him.

"I will do whatever you think is best," Chakotay said. "I will do—whatever is going to make your life easiest, Kathryn. But—no matter what you say? My feelings for you aren't going to change. I promised you that I wasn't going anywhere. I meant that. And I promised you that—I would spend the rest of my life trying to make your life better. I meant that, too."

Kathryn pulled away from him and mopped at her face.

"How do we do this? How do we tell everyone? What will they say?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay felt relief flooding his chest as he realized she was clearly leaning toward the fact that this—whatever they chose to call their relationship—wasn't going anywhere. They were still going to love one another. And to love one another, every day, on the bridge—to know what they had experienced together and the happiness they were capable of having—without being able to love one another when they were off-duty, would be unbearable.

Chakotay squeezed her arms.

"I'm sure we'll find the right moment," Chakotay said. "In the scramble of everything—in the debriefing. It's bound to come up. We'll make it official knowledge. The relationship began and grew while we were off the ship. It grew on a world that we believed would be our home forever, when we believed we were civilians for the rest of our lives. Not even Starfleet can hold that against us. We'll just—make it part of the official logs. And then, we'll tell the crew. We'll announce it to them as soon as we're settled in. We don't have to make a big deal out of it, Kathryn. We'll tell them that, during all our months down here on New Earth, we found our love for one another. We sought companionship with one another. And now, we intend to continue that relationship—we hope with their blessing—now that we're returning to Voyager. It won't interfere with our duty. We'll still do our jobs, and we'll still serve the crew."

"Do you think the crew will understand?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"They gave up over six months of their lives, and risked their lives with the Vidiians, to get their captain back, Kathryn," Chakotay said. "They are going to be so thrilled to have her back that nothing else will matter. But—beyond that? They're going to be happy to see you happy. They're going to want your happiness, Kathryn, as much as any of them want their own."

Kathryn nodded her head at Chakotay. She came quickly toward him and he anticipated her desire. He gave her the kiss she wanted, and she nearly took his breath away with it.

"I love you," she breathed out as soon as the kiss broke.

"I love you," Chakotay assured her. He remembered that she'd voiced to him, several times, that, though she appeared to always be confident and self-assured, she needed reassurance that he wasn't going anywhere. She wasn't going to lose him. He could give her that. He would always give her that. "And I always will. I promise."

"Do we have—time?" She asked, raising her eyebrow at him.

Chakotay smiled at her.

"As long as we don't take too long, Captain," he assured her, pushing her back toward the bed.

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"I'll be honest," Daryl said, walking just behind Carol as she simply strolled around outside. Chakotay and Kathryn had a great deal to discuss, and it was clear that, perhaps, there was even more for them to discuss than what was on the surface. Carol and Daryl were giving them plenty of space, "I'm a little sad about goin' back to the ship."

Carol looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. She reached her hand back toward him and wiggled her fingers when he didn't immediately take them. He finally closed her hand in his. It felt nice to simply walk and hold her hand, so he quickened his steps so that he could walk beside her instead of just behind her.

Did she always look this beautiful in the sunlight? Daryl knew she was beautiful—and she always had been—but there was something particularly beautiful about her with the way the sun caught her at that moment.

"So fuckin' beautiful…I love you," Daryl said, before he could stop himself. The words had just come rolling out of his mouth and his heart pounded erratically as soon as he realized he'd said them with no context at all. "I'm sorry…"

Carol laughed to herself. Her brows furrowed with a flash of confusion.

"Are you sorry because—you love me?" She asked. "Or—are you sad because you love me and that makes you sorry?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I fucked it up all the way around," he said.

"I don't think you've fucked anything up," Carol assured him, squeezing his hand in hers.

"I just said I loved you because…it was there," Daryl said. "I'm sorry that—it was kinda weird."

Carol smiled dramatically at him and stopped her progress. She swung in front of him, blocking his forward progress so that he had to stop suddenly to keep from plowing into her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him long and lazy. He stayed, right where he was, returning the kiss for as long as she wanted. He enjoyed every change of it. Every time she pulled out of it, just slightly, to come back again like she realized her thirst wasn't yet quenched.

He kissed her until his lips and face ached.

And he didn't try to hide the smile that it left behind when she smiled at him with pink lips and pink cheeks.

"I'ma call you beautiful more often," he offered.

"I wish you would," Carol said sincerely. Daryl committed to memory that she'd clearly liked it, and obviously wasn't bothered that it had come without warning. "But—Daryl? I wish you weren't sad. We're going back to Voyager. It was nice there. And you really liked working with B'Elanna in Engineering, and I liked cooking with Neelix and helping out in sickbay."

"You were happy on Voyager," Daryl said. "Happier than—I've seen you since I've known you."

Carol smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

"I was safe," she said. "Comfortable. Occupied. Not hungry. And—there was finally some distance between me and…everything that I want to let go of. I could breathe."

"But you been even happier since you been here," Daryl offered.

Carol hummed to herself.

"Because I've had more time with you here," Carol said. "I've had all those things and—I've had more time with you. More time to be close to you. Before we left Voyager, we didn't have that much time. It was still new. Here it's been—comfortable."

Daryl nodded. He hesitated a moment to continue.

"So, it's just—me?" He asked. "It's not the planet? When we get back up there on the ship, you're still gonna be as happy as you are here?"

Carol laughed to herself.

"I can't promise that I'm always going to be happy, Daryl," Carol said. "Not every day."

"I want you to be," Daryl said. His chest caught and he realized how much he actually meant the words. "When you're happy—I think I finally figured it out. That's what makes me happy, Carol. It ain't nothin' else. Not really. It's just—knowin' you're happy."

Carol smiled warmly. She reached her finger up and touched his lips affectionately. She trailed her finger down to touch his chin. Then she kissed him again. This time it was short, and less playful than before, but full of meaning.

"Just hearing you say that—makes me very happy," Carol said. "Here or there, Daryl—I'm human. And neither of us knows what the future holds. We both know that. I can't promise that I'm always going to be happy. But—I can promise that you're my greatest source of happiness. And knowing that you care about my happiness? That makes me happy."

"You're sure you want to go back?" Daryl asked.

"I love you more than—anything or anyone," Carol said. "And I know I'd be happy to live with you, alone, for the rest of our lives. But—I care for Kathryn and Chakotay, too. So—if we can spend our lives with other people, and still have each other? I think I'd like that."

They must have made their decision right on time, because just as Daryl nodded to Carol and sealed the deal with a kiss, he heard the sound of Kathryn and Chakotay calling them. Together, still holding hands, they ran back toward the house.

Their things—few though they were—had already been beamed up.

It was strange to see Kathryn and Chakotay in uniform again.

"We've already taken ours," Chakotay said, holding up two hyposprays. "We better hurry. They're going to give us a few minutes to wait. It shouldn't take longer than that for it to take effect. The Vidiians said the cure was instant."

"It'll be quick with our blood pumping," Daryl offered with a laugh. "We almost ran here. Didn't wanna get left behind."

"We'd never leave you behind," Kathryn offered sincerely.

Daryl accepted when Chakotay pressed the hypospray to his neck. He still hadn't become accustomed to the hiss, but he supposed that eventually it wouldn't make him jump. Carol didn't seem bothered at all by the sound being so close to her ear.

When they were done, Chakotay touched his combadge to announce that they'd all been dosed.

For a last few moments, they stood and looked at the place that had been their little home. And then, over the commlink came Tuvok's announcement that they were about to be beamed up. The four of them stood close to one another, not quite touching in any way, and waited for the strange sensation—like your foot waking from falling asleep, except it spread through your whole body—of the transporter.

Daryl wasn't used to the transporter sensation, yet, but he trusted it. It was safe, after all, and they assured him of that. Still, he naturally closed his eyes when he knew that it was about to happen.

He was pleased, then, to see the familiar interior of Voyager when he opened his eyes. He was pleased to see Kes waiting beside the man who worked the transporter. But he immediately decided that he didn't care for her expression, and he was uneasy when he found that he and Chakotay were the first to arrive—especially when a second passed, like an eternity, and nobody else appeared.


	35. Chapter 35

**AN: Here you go! **

**I posted a ton today, so please don't forget to read Chapters 32-34 before you read this one. (And please don't forget to show me some love on those chapters, if you enjoy! You know I survive on validation, right? LOL) **

**This won't mean anything to my Caryl people, but to my Voyager people, it will. The doctor has his mobile emitter already. We're going to pretend they traded for it before this story started. This really changes nothing at all about the story, it just means that the doctor can move around the ship where he wants.**

**At any rate, I hope you enjoy the chapter! Please let me know what you think! **

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Chakotay knew very well that, by the time Kes had gotten the words "before you panic," out of her mouth, Daryl had already begun to panic. Chakotay was concerned, and that concern gnawed at his gut, but he'd spent enough of his life in Starfleet to know that sometimes it was best not to panic when an explanation was about to be offered.

Daryl didn't know that yet.

"Put me back now, asshole!" Daryl demanded loudly.

"Where do you want to go?" Ensign Riviera asked sincerely. He looked a little terrified of Daryl's very powerfully spoken demand.

Chakotay reached a hand out in Daryl's direction to try to catch his shoulder and ground him.

"Wherever the fuck you put Carol!" Daryl yelled. He lunged in the direction of the ensign as though attacking the man might somehow lessen whatever cocktail of emotions he was feeling. Chakotay understood the urge. He was also somewhat thankful that lunging for Daryl, and practically wrestling him backward, let him use some of the energy that was beginning to boil up inside of him.

"I'm sure there's an explanation!" Chakotay said, holding tight to Daryl to keep him from going in any direction.

"There is!" Kes said, stepping closer to the transporter pad.

"Better be you tellin' me where the hell Carol is!" Daryl barked.

Normally Daryl was fond of Kes, but it was clear to Chakotay that he had no attachments to anyone, at that moment, at all. He wasn't fighting Chakotay, but he would, if that's what he felt needed to be done.

"Carol is in sickbay," Kes said. "With Captain Janeway."

"Is it the virus?" Chakotay asked.

He felt his own desire to react surging up, and he released Daryl. He headed for the exit, determined to make it to sickbay as quickly as possible. Daryl didn't argue with this plan at all, and Kes was left running after them.

"We don't know what it is," Kes called as she ran behind them. "The doctor is—running tests now."

Kes stopped trying to fill them and, instead, simply did her best to keep up with them as they made their way to sickbay. As soon as the doors whooshed open, and they were inside, Chakotay tried to figure out what exactly was going on.

Kathryn was at one biobed, clearly trapped in a forcefield, and two biobeds away, Carol was doing her best to escape by digging out of her own forcefield—with no real progress, especially given that such a feat was impossible. The doctor's alarms were going off, indicating that one of them—more than likely Carol—was in some kind of distress that put her vitals outside of normal and acceptable range.

The doctor was unsuccessfully trying to persuade her to calm down.

Daryl ran over and spat a curse at the forcefield when it denied him access to Carol and pushed him backward.

"Let her outta there!" Daryl yelled at the doctor. "Let her out! She can't breathe! She's claustrophobic, you asshole!"

Chakotay remembered that Carol had very nearly gone into severe panic when they'd been put in the stasis chambers. She'd had to be sedated in order to go in hers.

Now it was clear that she was in distress and she was desperate. It even hurt his chest to see her on the floor, begging for release, and gasping at her imagined shortness of breath. The truth of the matter was that she was causing any shortness of breath that she might feel.

"The atmospheric forcefields are for the protection of Carol and the captain," the doctor insisted. "Until I know that their systems are completely free of the virus, I'm holding them in protective atmospheric bubbles to keep them from suffering the same fate as Ensign Reynolds."

It was a positive and proactive step, in Chakotay's opinion. He was sure that Carol and Daryl would both agree when Carol was calm and able to see reason. Chakotay stepped up to the forcefield.

"Carol—Carol—can you hear me?" Chakotay asked. She looked at him, but through gasping for air, it was clear that she couldn't, or wouldn't, respond. "I know it feels like you're trapped. But the bubble is for your protection."

"She can't breathe!" Daryl barked. He somewhat lunged toward Chakotay out of instinct more than anything. When he realized what he'd done, he backed up. "I'm sorry," he said. "But she can't fuckin' breathe! You gotta get her out!"

Desperate to do what he asked Chakotay to do, Daryl clawed at the forcefield like he might scratch Carol free with his nails. Chakotay pushed him back to stop the noise that his futile efforts created.

"That won't work and she can't hear us if you're doing that," Chakotay said. "Carol—Carol—you can breathe."

"That's what I've been trying to tell her since she began to hyperventilate," the doctor said. "I can hardly treat her for a problem that she doesn't actually have. We need to get her anxiety under control, though. It's certainly not doing anyone any good."

"Least of all her," Chakotay offered. "Daryl—see if you can get her attention. See if she'll focus on you. The atmospheric bubbles have constant oxygen flow. The oxygen rate is monitored and carefully controlled."

"You hear that?" Daryl asked, clearly excited by the news. "Carol? You hear that? You got oxygen. Plenty of it!"

Carol looked at him. In her panic, she gasped at him a little like a fish out of water. It was silent and half-choked by her tears of desperation. The pain she was feeling, as she clutched at her chest, was not the pain of suffocation—as her brain feared it to be. It was the pain of her own anxiety. But at least she looked at Daryl. The heartbreaking thing, Chakotay was sure, for Daryl, was that she looked at him like she trusted him to get her out of the bubble that he couldn't control.

Chakotay chanced a glance toward Kathryn. In true Kathryn form, she was clearly concerned, but it was pretty evident that almost none of that concern was for herself. She stood at the edge of her forcefield, just before touching it, and watched with concern at what was happening.

Kathryn cared for Carol—and Carol's suffering, no matter how minor the result of it would actually end up being, would be Kathryn's suffering.

"Carol," Chakotay said, adding his voice to Daryl's to try to calm the situation for Kathryn as much as for Carol, "the air inside the forcefield is measured and controlled. It's circulating constantly. You have more oxygen in there than we're guaranteed to have out here."

Carol seemed to pause for a moment. She looked from Chakotay back to Daryl. She was on the floor. She'd sunk down, likely in the earliest moments of panic. She crawled forward and touched the forcefield like she was reaching for him. She jumped back when it loudly denied her the ability to leave the space. Daryl knelt down in front of her.

"You got air, Carol," he promised. "You got it. All you need. Just breathe in."

"I hate to be the one to inform you," the doctor said, "but she's been breathing all along. That isn't the problem. The problem is the rate of her breathing. She needs to breathe deeper and slower."

Daryl gave the doctor a clear warning look before he softened his expression and turned back to Carol. She very clearly fixated on Daryl.

"You hear that? You hear him?" Daryl asked. "You got plenty of air. You need to breathe deep, though. Take a real deep breath."

"I can't!" Carol protested.

"You can!" Daryl insisted.

"Tell her we'll all breathe with her," Kathryn offered from her own bubble.

"You hear that? Kathryn's gonna breathe in her bubble, too," Daryl said. "We all gonna breathe."

"I'll use up all the air," Carol protested.

"You can't," Daryl said. "You breathe it in, Voyager's just gonna pump more air in there. It's mechanical. That means B'Elanna's runnin' it. You know she's not gonna let you suffocate, right? Klingons—they don't suffocate their victims anyway. And she'd never suffocate you. She knows how pissed I'd be with her if she even thought about somethin' like that."

The whole thing was a fabricated story. B'Elanna did keep the ship in top working order, so there was, perhaps, a grain of truth there, but mostly Daryl was talking because it calmed Carol. Without her realizing, she focused on what he was saying and she forgot, for even a split second, to focus on her perceived suffocation.

A second was long enough for her to begin to feel like she got some more air, so she started to calm more. It got even better when they all convinced her to that first deep breath, hold it, and let it out slowly. It improved further when they convinced her to do it again.

Finally, Carol was calm and breathing normally on the floor of sickbay.

Chakotay walked over the Kathryn's bubble. She clearly looked tired from the ordeal, but she relaxed when Carol's alarms stopped going off to indicate that all her levels were returning to normal.

"Are you OK?" Chakotay asked.

Kathryn smiled softly and nodded.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "We were beamed directly here. We were beamed directly into the bubbles. There wasn't time to discuss things with the doctor because Carol's panic immediately started to set in and the alarms went off."

From her bubble, Carol's panic was now replaced with upset and embarrassment over the uncontrollable response. She cried out her apology in a loop until Daryl shushed her and Chakotay and Kathryn both promised her that all was well and nobody was even inconvenienced. She was visibly tired and, more than likely, was the one who had suffered the most from her panic—though Daryl might have been a close runner up.

"If I may," the doctor said, finally interrupting them.

"Please, Doctor," Kathryn offered from behind her field.

"When I was first planning to beam you aboard, my original thought was that it would be better to put everyone in containment. The crew has been inoculated against the virus, so I had very little fear of you bringing it onboard to contaminate anyone else, but I knew that what happened with Ensign Reynolds was very sudden, and it took place the moment that she made contact with our atmosphere. The virus aside, I also didn't know what else you might have come into contact with on the planet's surface. The Vidiians had assured me, though, that the virus was the only known illness that resulted from that particular planet. They'd worked with it before. They knew, perfectly, what it was and how to cure it. They did warn me, though, that they'd only ever tested their cure and their inoculation on Vidiians. Therefore, they really had no way of knowing how it would work on humans."

"You got a point?" Daryl asked.

"I'm getting there, Mr. Dixon," the doctor said, allowing all his annoyance to shine through.

"Yeah—real slowly," Daryl said. "Why are they in the bubbles? What's gonna happen?"

"Well—I'm not entirely sure," the doctor said. "I don't know that I have an answer for either of those questions, but I was coming to that."

"We're sorry, Doctor," Kathryn offered diplomatically from her bubble. "Daryl is just anxious about the—the status of his…mate." It was clear that she hadn't known quite how to express what she wanted to say, and she had never discussed titles with Daryl and Carol. It was also clear that she wasn't pleased with her own choice of words, but it was enough to appease the doctor, and that was all that mattered for the time being. "Please, continue."

"As I was saying," the doctor offered, "I considered putting everyone in containment. I finally decided, though, that such a precaution wasn't necessary. Instead, I had B'Elanna help me to set the transporter with a medical scanner and contamination scanner. Instead of simply alerting us to contamination in the transporter room, I set it to transport the infected person—if such an individual might exist after the medicine was administered—directly to one of the four atmospheric containment fields that I set up with the exact specifications of the planet's atmosphere. I expected them all to remain empty. As you can see, my hypothesis was incorrect."

"I'm glad the containment fields are in place," Chakotay offered, his stomach sinking. "The virus was fatal. What—are we going to do?"

"If she goes back down," Daryl said quickly and firmly, "I go back down. I don't give a damn about a virus."

"Nobody is being beamed back to the surface," the doctor said. "At least—not yet. We've left orbit already, and I'm sure that we would prefer not to have to return if we're able to avoid such a thing. I had the transporter scanner set to detect the virus or any other abnormality that could be attributed to the fact that everything on the planet is alien to us and, therefore, may affect the human system in ways of which the Vidiians may not even be aware. I haven't been able to run many tests, though, to find out what's infecting the captain and Carol, because as soon as I set the computers to start scanning and sent Kes to let you both know what had happened, Carol's panic attack began. I was trying to calm her. Whatever it is, I'm confident we can treat it on Voyager—especially now that we know the forcefields work to mimic and maintain the protective atmosphere."

"Forcefields are workin'," Daryl said. "And she's breathin'. Can't you find out what's wrong now? Instead of wastin' time?"

The doctor opened his mouth like he might protest, but Kes stepped in to distract him just as Chakotay stepped forward to try to soothe things over.

"Doctor—this might be of some interest to you," Kes said, handing him a PADD. "They're the preliminary results following the computer scan."

The doctor took the PADD and studied it.

"This is interesting," he said.

"What is it?" Chakotay asked. "The virus or some mutation of it?"

"Not exactly," the doctor said. "I'd like to run some individual tests and perform an examination of each of my patients. The preliminary scans, though, indicate that it's not the virus. Instead, it seems that they've picked up some kind of parasite while on the planet's surface."


	36. Chapter 36

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I am not sure how many of you missed yesterday's updates, but there were four chapters yesterday that you'll absolutely want to read before reading this one.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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Tuvok came once to the sickbay to ask about the situation. Kes was making rounds to handle any minor medical issue throughout the ship. The doctor was temporarily not seeing anybody, short of an absolute emergency, as he ran some scans within the bubbles that were set to find out information about the alien parasites. Daryl didn't understand much of what was going on, but he also realized that he didn't have to. This wasn't his area and nobody was looking to him for answers.

Kathryn was confident that whatever it was would be taken care of in no time, and Daryl was so thankful for her optimism that he could have kissed her if she weren't as inaccessible as Carol was.

Kathryn's optimism had returned some of the color to Carol's face and the smile to her lips. The panic attack had taken it out of her, and it had reminded Daryl how emotionally fragile Carol really was. They were three hundred physical years and seventy thousand light years away from everything that had hurt her in the past, and she wanted to move past it all, but it was all still with her and she was still going to have to work through it—a little at a time. The distance would help with that, of course, but it wasn't simply gone.

Chakotay was avoiding telling the crew much of anything for the time being. He'd told Tuvok what was going on, but the decision had been made that they would make no formal announcement until the doctor knew a little more about the parasites. Tuvok would remain in command and, as soon as Kathryn was able, she would join them for a debriefing that would inform them all of what happened on the planet's surface and what resulted afterward. She fully intended for her debriefing to include information about how the doctor got rid of the alien parasite.

To avoid having to answer questions—or having to actively avoid answering said questions—Chakotay wanted to keep away from the rest of the ship. The doctor had tried to suggest that he and Daryl could go anywhere they wanted, but they couldn't stay in sickbay, since it would violate the privacy of his patients, but his patients had quickly declared that they simply didn't care. They forfeited their privacy rights in the presence of each other. They were, after all, all in this together—even if the doctor didn't exactly know to what extent, and even if Daryl couldn't figure out what the women had done differently to expose only them to a parasite.

Without knowing what they were dealing with, the doctor kept the forcefields in place. He could pass through them, by losing his solidity somehow, when he wanted, but equipment was more complicated. In addition, he was working with the diagnostic programs and the information that the Vidiians had given him, so it was all a game of touch and go—from what Daryl could tell—while he tried to get everything prepared to diagnose the women. It was a great complication, and a hindrance, that everything about the planet was entirely alien—despite its physical resemblance to Earth.

It seemed like hours—though it was probably only one long and boring hour at most—that he fiddled with things and ran scans before he seemed ready to star talking about his findings.

He was punching information into one of his data PADDs when he waved at Chakotay and Daryl that they could both join him at Kathryn's bubble.

"Did you find something, Doctor?" Kathryn asked. She hopped down off the biobed where she'd been sitting, instead of choosing to sit with her legs crossed on the floor like Carol. Kathryn had also shed her uniform jacket, clearly feeling that she could relax a little if she was going to be stuck in a bubble for possibly hours.

"Yes and no," the doctor said. "I have no definitive information. However, I feel that I'm much closer to having an answer."

"What do you know?" Chakotay asked.

"The parasites are not identical," the doctor said. "They register differently with my equipment, but not entirely differently. I've identified a point of attachment for both parasites. I've also confirmed that they have clear life signs."

"Are they sentient?" Chakotay asked.

"I have no way of determining that," the doctor said.

"It's probably better if we don't," Chakotay said with a sigh. "I don't want to get into any moral or ethical discussions over parasite rights."

"The scans are inconclusive, mostly owing to the fact that the information that the Vidiians gave us is incomplete, and I'm running all my analysis from their data to try to find the closest match for our new alien stowaways. I am planning further tests, but there are things that we need to discuss as I move forward. The parasites are clearly steadily drawing nutrients and energy from the bodies of the captain and Carol."

"So, we gotta stop 'em," Daryl said. Nobody paid him any attention except to glance in his direction. He assumed that nobody else wanted to put into words the simple truth that he'd identified without fancy, beeping PADDs and machines.

"Treatment options, Doctor?" Kathryn asked.

"I have attempted to terminate the parasites with several variations of the Vidiian cure," the doctor said. "There has been no effect on the parasites. Their life signs remain present and stay at a steady strength."

"Surgery?" Chakotay asked.

"I'm afraid that's the only other option," the doctor said. "I simply don't have enough information on the planet and its flora and fauna to create a better option. I have located the parasites, though, and I believe that I could extract them with surgery."

Daryl's heart pounded. He glanced back toward Carol's bubble. She was sitting near the edge of it, just inside the part where it would start loudly protesting her attempts to escape, and she was listening. Like Kathryn, she had her brow furrowed, but she didn't look terrified. She looked, if anything, somewhat intrigued.

Carol was almost always fascinated by everything that had happened around them since they'd been brought onto Voyager the first time.

"Is the surgery dangerous?" Daryl asked.

"There's an element of risk in every surgery," the doctor said. "However, I believe that it poses no obvious serious threats to either of my patients."

"The parasites could kill them," Chakotay offered, clearly able to see Daryl's reluctance to let Carol risk her life over the removal of a parasite that they hadn't even known was there. "It's probably lucky that we came back when we did. Otherwise—who knows what would have happened and we'd have been helpless against it on the planet."

"You OK with it?" Daryl asked, directing his question to Carol. She nodded from inside her bubble. She laughed to herself.

"I don't think I have much of a choice," she offered. "And—I'd rather have the surgery and have my seventy or eighty years than…wait to see what's going to happen when this alien parasite takes over my body."

"I think we're both in agreement," Kathryn offered. "When will you do the surgeries, Doctor?"

"Soon, Captain," the doctor said. "There's—just one more thing I'd like to pursue before we accept that surgery is our only option."

"I think you oughta—pursue a couple more. As long as the parasites aren't like…hurtin' 'em right now."

"It would appear that, while the parasites are feeding off the captain and Carol, to a degree, they are not being harmed in any extreme way at the moment," the doctor confirmed.

"So, there's time to explore things," Daryl said.

"There's time to explore things, Mr. Dixon," the doctor said somewhat dismissively.

"What were you thinking about, Doctor?" Kathryn asked.

"Changing the parameters of the scans," the doctor said. "I've been focusing on the Vidiian information because of the alien nature of the planet. I would like to run a few scans using our Starfleet knowledge."

"You think that Starfleet technology will be able to identify the parasite?" Chakotay asked.

"At the very least," the doctor offered, "it will offer some information about what the parasite is not."

"Whatever you think is best, Doctor," Kathryn said. She was clearly relaxed, as was Carol, so Daryl decided to try to take a page from each of their books and try to relax, himself. Even Chakotay didn't seem too worried. It seemed that alien parasites, and surgeries to remove said parasites, were just a part of another day at Starfleet.

Daryl crossed his arms across his chest and distanced himself just a little so that he was nearly halfway between the outer boundary of the two bubbles.

The doctor made a quick trip to his computer and made some changes there, like he'd done a thousand times already. Then he walked back over with a tricorder in hand.

"May I scan you again, Captain?" He requested.

"Of course," Kathryn said. She stood at full attention at the edge of her bubble and the doctor scanned her. He studied the information on his tricorder. Chakotay leaned like he might try to look at the information and the doctor tipped the tricorder away and gave him a warning look. Daryl laughed to himself, but swallowed the laughter down. That was how the doctor treated him every time he wanted to see what one of the machines said about Carol. It was nice to see the doctor slightly annoyed with someone else for a change.

He went to Carol's bubble, and she got up long enough to come closer to the edge of her bubble, even though the doctor told her it wasn't necessary. Daryl didn't even walk over or try to look over the doctor's shoulder because he already knew that the doctor would simply deny him the right to see anything. The doctor would tell them exactly what he thought they should know in the exact moment that he felt he could report to them with some confidence.

"Is there anything there, Doctor?" Chakotay asked when the doctor came back over to Kathryn's bubble.

"Absolutely," the doctor said. "Mr. Dixon—could you come here a moment?"

Daryl came closer. He kept his body turned, though, so that it was clear that he wasn't turning his body to Carol or shutting her out of the conversation.

"Captain—I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask for more information that will help me determine the next course of action," the doctor said.

"From me?" Kathryn asked.

"Your situation has the potential to be the deciding factor in this case," the doctor said. "So, I'm afraid so."

"I've already told you everything I could think of," Kathryn said. "We ate—meat. Mostly we ate a species that was a type of fowl. We ate—hoppers. The rodent species. We ate—the large cat."

"And that iguana in soup," Daryl offered.

"We drank the water, but it was always boiled," Chakotay offered, deciding that they were simply ticking back through what they'd all been through once before with the EMH—all the things that might have allowed the parasites to gain access to the interior of the women's bodies.

"But we all ate and drank the same things," Daryl said. "Even the vegetables we ate and the roots. We ate the same things. When we tested 'em for bein' toxic? We all tried it. Figured—we all lived or died together."

"Was there any other method through which the parasite may have been introduced into your system?" The doctor asked.

"We all used the same water for baths and swimming," Chakotay offered.

"I was injured a few times," Kathryn offered. "Minor injuries. Scratches or cuts that broke the skin. It could have been that Carol and I picked up the parasites that way."

"It's unlikely that you touched anything that we would have never touched with broken skin," Chakotay offered.

"I've had at least one open blister on my hand since we damn near got outta the pods," Daryl offered. "I shoulda cleaned up on germs around that place if there was some."

The doctor sighed.

"I'm going to be direct, Captain," the doctor said. "Were you involved in any intimate interactions of a sexual nature on the planet's surface?"

If discretion had been their plan, they'd failed. Daryl saw Kathryn and Chakotay make eye contact—albeit quickly—before Kathryn straightened herself up and responded. Even if the doctor didn't call them out, there was no way he'd missed the exchange.

"Is there—need for such private information, Doctor?" Kathryn asked.

"Is it some sorta sexually transmitted parasite?" Daryl asked with a laugh, unable to stop himself.

"It would appear that it might be something of the sort," the doctor said.

"Then that would mean that Kathryn and Carol wouldn't be the only ones with it," Daryl offered. He felt like he might as well say it, since he was pretty sure that nobody was left under the impression that he and Carol hadn't given in to their desires as far back as the fever.

"I'm afraid they are," the doctor said. "But—Captain—your answer changes everything about how we'll want to proceed. Let me see if I can be of some assistance. If you answer in the negative, then the surgery is the last solution that I have to offer to remove the parasite from your system. If you answer in the positive, then…I believe it may be better for the health of everyone involved if we simply allowed nature to take its course. If that's the case, it appears your particular situation would resolve itself in approximately thirty-four weeks, while Carol's situation should resolve itself in about thirty weeks. Both, hopefully, with the successful delivery of, as you called it, future crew members."

Daryl stared at the EMH. He let his eyes drift over everyone present. He felt overwhelmed by confusion for a moment, and it was clear that he wasn't the only one.

"What are you—saying, Doctor?" Kathryn asked.

"Captain," the doctor said, "what I'm asking is…is there any chance that Starfleet medical technology is correct and you're pregnant, or should I assume that Vidiian medical technology is correct and I need to proceed with surgery to detach the alien parasite that has taken up residency in your body by attaching itself to your uterine lining?"

Daryl was almost certain he felt his face go numb and, from the looks of his companions, he wasn't the only experiencing that rather alien sensation.


	37. Chapter 37

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**If you missed yesterday's updates, or today's Chapter 36, you'll definitely want to read them.**

**I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to let me know what you think! **

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If either Kathryn or Chakotay had wanted a distraction, at that very moment, to give them time to think about their reactions, Carol had read their thoughts and immediately granted them their wishes.

The problem was, Daryl knew that her reaction wasn't for anyone else's benefit. And whatever numbness or paralysis he felt while trying to process what he'd heard was simply going to have to wait while he tried to help her—because the cry she let go, when it all sunk in, echoed through sickbay.

It wasn't the same kind of panic attack that had come with the claustrophobia. The reaction was one of absolute and sheer terror—the kind that could only come from very deep-seated trauma. The kind of trauma that they'd simply never had the tools or the time to deal with.

Everyone there that had spoken to Carol knew that she had a string of losses behind her, but they didn't know, in the same way Daryl did, what that really meant.

His soul vibrated with the sound of her cry.

"No…no…no…no…no…" she repeated. She crawled backward. She crab-walked. What she was looking for, it was impossible to tell. Some way to hide. To make herself small. Daryl understood, immediately, what was happening. "I can't," she threw in for good measure to break up the loud rejection of what the doctor had said. "Please—no…"

"Get that forcefield down!" Daryl barked.

"Until I'm certain that there's no threat…" the doctor started.

"Then put up a bigger fuckin' forcefield that has me in it and take that one down!" Daryl barked. "I might not be able to knock your ass out, but I'll sure as shit rewire your fuckin' control panel if you don't let me in the damned forcefield!"

Chakotay said something to the doctor. Daryl didn't hear the words over Carol's screaming that she couldn't do this. It couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real. She'd found, with her back against the biobed, the place on the floor where she could make herself the smallest, and she covered her face and somewhat covered her ears like she could block out reality.

As soon as the forcefield sizzled out of existence, Daryl ran into it and hit the ground hard enough that his knees ached with his decision. He pulled her into him and ignored the fact that she fought him. At that precise moment, he knew she wasn't fighting him. Not really. She was fighting what he'd been trying to contend with for years—what had grown with each and every compounding loss and injustice she'd suffered.

"It's OK," he offered. "I got'cha. I got'cha. You're OK. It's safe. You're safe here."

His repetition calmed her just a little. Maybe it was the feeling of being wrapped in his arms that calmed her. He didn't care that he was uncomfortable, he simply did his best to pull her to him and hold her tightly. The screaming, at least, gave way to pathetic sobs.

"Please," she begged. "Please…no…please…"

The doctor stepped closer, then, and Daryl became aware that he must have let Kathryn's forcefield down upon realizing that there was no longer a threat to the women in the atmosphere surrounding them. Kathryn stepped closer, as well. Kes had returned, and Chakotay closed in on them.

They were all too close, maybe.

"Backup! Let her breathe!" Daryl barked at all of them. He ignored the fact that he was likely smothering her as he held her tightly against him, but she'd stopped fighting him, so he assumed she was finding some comfort in that. He worried, though, that she was too deep in her trauma to deal with the audience that was forming around her.

"I would request a twenty-four-hour period of time to give everyone the opportunity to consider their reactions without the initial shock of discovery. However, at that time, if the captain and Carol do not wish to carry the pregnancies to term," the doctor offered, very much solemnly, "then I can terminate the pregnancies upon request."

Carol's shrieked "no" was every bit as loud as her first protests and she fought against Daryl for a second before relaxing back into him. His ears were ringing. He was too close to the source of her screaming, but she hadn't meant to hurt him or bother anyone.

"Please…" she continued to sob pathetically. He didn't know what to do. He didn't even know how he felt except that he wanted the pain to stop for her. He wanted the pain that it was causing him to stop.

"You don't know what the hell she's seen," Daryl said. "What the hell she's been through. You gotta—help her. Please."

Kes brought the doctor something and the EMH came close, kneeling down next to them. He held out the hypospray to administer it, but Carol saw it coming and protested loudly as she fought—clearly prepared to do her best to escape the hologram, and Daryl, if necessary, in whatever way possible.

Daryl held her tighter, silently apologizing to her because he was sure that his hold on her was hard and probably uncomfortable. He would apologize to her for every one of the possible bruises later, when the crisis was over.

"It is a sedative, Carol," the doctor offered. "A mild sedative."

She made clear her dislike of the idea of trusting him with the hypospray. She kicked in his direction as a response, and Daryl was glad that he was out of the way of her feet. He was also glad that the EMH, though he looked disgruntled to be treated that way, wasn't able to be truly injured.

"Won't hurt nothing?" Daryl asked.

"It will help return Carol's pulse and breathing rate to normal," the doctor said. "It will help even out her blood pressure. It will affect her in no adverse way."

"Hear that?" Daryl asked. "Listen—you gotta. I'm sorry—want to or not? You gotta. We can talk about this—all damn day if you want. All night. But—you gotta breathe an' not have a stroke on me. I'm sorry…"

Daryl held her, baring her neck to the doctor. He almost felt like he was trying to hold a wild animal instead of the woman that he loved. Her reaction to everything was entirely visceral and Daryl knew that, in all reality, they would likely spend much of the day and night discussing things. The first step, though, was getting her to a place where she could at least venture back out of the darkness inside of her—the place where all her losses haunted her.

Carol cried out, but Daryl knew it was more in frustration than pain. As the sedative entered her body, though, and she relaxed into his arms, her sobbing softened to a less hysterical cry. It became the steady, dragon-teared cry of a woman who was dealing with a heavy sadness.

Daryl mopped at her face with his hand, and he thanked Kes when the young Ocampan produced handkerchiefs for him.

Carol's audience—now people he could recognize as those who were concerned for her—started to close in again. Daryl glanced around at them even as Carol did. Whether they meant to react in such a way or not, Kathryn was visibly shedding tears and Chakotay had wrapped his arms around her.

"It can't be real," Carol said, through her tears.

"I don't think the doctor would say it as a lie or a joke," Daryl offered. It wasn't reality for him, either. In no way had he accepted what the doctor had said entirely, but something in him made it more important for him to make it real for Carol than it was to make it real for himself.

"I assure you," the doctor offered, still kneeling near them, "that I've explored this as thoroughly as I can. As soon as a I recognized the pattern of the heartbeat in the life signs, I began to wonder about the possibility. It was only the captain's inclusion in the equation that kept me denying the possibility for so long."

Carol was relaxing. She was red-eyed and tears were rolling down her cheeks. Every now and again her face drew up again as she cried a little more, but she was relaxing.

"It can't be," she promised him, shaking her head.

"Kes, could you bring me the fetal heart monitor? The tricorder readout may be less effective," the doctor said. "Mr. Dixon, do you think we could get Carol off the floor and onto the biobed?"

Whether Carol wanted to leave the floor or not, Daryl didn't stop to ask. Catching her bridal style, he heaved her up and deposited her onto the bed. He stepped close enough, though, that she could simply curl herself back into him rather than stretching out. As she curled into him, her head resting against his shoulder, he hugged her and rubbed his hands over her body. It was clear that exposing herself, even by stretching out, was leaving her feeling too vulnerable at the moment.

When Kes brought the doctor what he asked for, he spent a moment at the portable computer console that she rolled over and then came toward Carol with a disc of some sort. Carol did her best to move away from him and Daryl held her. Carol was normally fascinated with everything that they had and did on the ship. At the moment, though, that fascination was gone.

"It is a fetal monitor," the doctor said, softening his tone to a level that Daryl had never heard from him before. "It won't hurt you or…anything." Carol relaxed a little. "I'll need you to—lie back. Relax. It'll be good for you. Nothing is going to happen that will harm you in any way."

Slowly, Carol consented to this. She laid back, but held tight to Daryl's arm. He moved her hand just enough to hold her hand. Without even the need to disrupt her clothing, the doctor rested the disc on her body and activated it with some kind of switch. At the touch of a button on his computer, a sound immediately issued forth.

It was a sound that made Carol start to cry again, so Daryl leaned and kissed her face—soggy and wet despite his mopping it frequently with the handkerchiefs, and absolutely salty.

"No…" Carol breathed out. "No—I can't…"

"Can't what?" Daryl asked.

"I can't—do this," Carol said. "I can't—do it. I can't—have a baby. There can't be a baby."

At least Carol was calm enough, despite her tears, that Daryl felt he could talk to her. He felt that there could be some discussion and rationalization, even if it was rationalization through the lens of compound traumas.

Still, he felt his whole body tense upon hearing things so plainly said. It hadn't sunk in for him. Perhaps, for Carol, it was already more of a reality than it was for him. He felt a tightness in his chest as he tried to slowly accept it—for her sake and for the long hours that were coming.

"It's already there," Daryl offered. "It's already there," he repeated, when she shook her head at him.

"I am programmed to do what's best for my patient," the EMH offered, maintaining the seriousness and softness to his tone that he'd used earlier. He removed the disc and the earlier sound stopped. "It is clear that Carol is in significant distress. I am programmed to suggest a wait period, during which time she can carefully consider her options, but if it's determined that it would be in her best interest, I can terminate the pregnancy at this stage."

"No," Carol said, sucking in a breath with a small sound of that earlier hysteria. Daryl shushed her quickly. He didn't want it to get out of hand. More sedation would only knock her out—not allow her to deal with things in a state of artificial calm like the one they'd done their best to create now.

"You don't want that, it ain't gonna happen, OK? It ain't gonna happen," Daryl assured her.

"Carol," Kathryn said, stepping over to the biobed to stand beside Daryl. She reached a hand out to touch Carol, and Carol didn't shrink away from her touch. "Nobody is going to make you do anything that you don't want to do. We're all here to support you."

Carol seemed significantly calmed by that for a second. She mopped at her face and Daryl offered her a soggy handkerchief before Kes's small hand appeared around him, from behind him, and exchanged the soggy ones for dry ones.

They were, truly, all there to offer support. Even Carol clearly felt that in that instant.

"I can't lose…again," Carol said sincerely, her voice not dotted with the hiccupping sobs as it had been before. She shook her head at him. "I can't. Not again. And now there's no way around it because—I can't let him…I can't do that…but if I don't…there's no way around it. And I don't think I can, Daryl. I don't think I'm strong enough to do it again."

Daryl's heart seized almost painfully in his chest. For a split second, his breathing caught and he wondered if that was what the start of a heart attack might feel like.

He nodded at her. He ghosted his hands over her. She was healthy and fine. There was nothing wrong with her, at the moment, physically. She was strong—the strongest person he'd ever known—and she could pull through things that he was certain would have killed any other normal person. And, if they'd ever been in a place where they could get help before, they were in a better place now. They were three hundred years in the future, and she could work through some of what she'd been through safely.

And Daryl didn't miss the slightest shift—as she realized she was surrounded by people who genuinely cared for her, for no other reason than because she was a good person and they chose to genuinely care for her—from her insistence that she absolutely could not do what lie ahead of her to the concern that she might not be able to do it.

"I think—you forgot one way to look at this," Daryl said. Carol looked at him. That was enough for now. "You talked about—loss, and I understand why you would think about that. I do. With everything. Sophia and Henry—even Lizzie and Mika. But—what if it don't go that way? What if—you don't lose here? What if this one is…one you get to keep? Forever."

Carol frowned sincerely.

"What if it's not?" She asked.

Daryl nodded his understanding.

"But it's already here," Daryl offered. "You heard it. Don't you think—my idea sounds better?"

Daryl didn't know if Carol realized it, but she slowly calmed completely. The suggestion sounded so good to her, in fact, that her body naturally responded to it.

"At least think about that," Daryl offered softly. He swallowed against the churning in his gut. There would be time to deal with that. One crisis at a time—and this was more important than any jiggly feelings his gut was offering him. He wiped at Carol's face again and she accepted the kiss he offered her. She returned it with some hunger. "Hey—at least it's gonna grow up with built-in playmates," Daryl offered, with a smile, when the kiss broke.

Carol smiled at the idea. It was the first smile he'd seen so far. It didn't mean they were entirely out of the woods, because he knew that trauma simply didn't work that way, but it meant that she was making steps in a positive direction.

When Daryl turned to see the reaction of the others, though—those who had stood in solidarity to offer support to Carol in whatever way they could—he realized that there was much more to be considered as they all moved forward. And maybe he wasn't the only one who hadn't quite let reality sink in yet.

He had never seen anyone quite so pale as Kathryn was when she reached her hand out to hold onto the side of the biobed at Daryl's mention of playmates.


	38. Chapter 38

**AN: Here's another chapter (and the last for the weekend). **

**If you didn't read the other two from today or the four from yesterday, please read them before you read this one. Don't forget to let me know what you think of them! **

**I hope you enjoy this one. There's much more to come, but I ran out of time/weekend. Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **

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Chakotay saw the moment that Kathryn blanched completely and reached for the biobed. He stepped forward and caught her around the ribs, holding her against the very real possibility that she was about to lose consciousness.

As was her normal practice—and part of what made her a wonderful and beloved captain—Kathryn had put Carol's needs before even dealing with her own situation. She needed to see that the situations of her friends, family, and crewmembers were all dealt with before she concerned herself with what was going on in her own life. From Carol's first loud protest against everything she feared occurring, Kathryn had forgotten that she even had a part in this. From the moment her forcefield had vanished from existence, she'd been focused solely on what any and all of them needed to do in order to see Carol into a mental space where she could handle her situation.

Kathryn swayed, but she was absolutely at no risk of falling. Chakotay would have no problem keeping her on her feet.

"I'm fine," she said after a second. It was barely perceptible and she put her hands over his to somewhat push them away from her body. He released her, but he immediately disliked the gesture. His stomach twisted in response.

He didn't know what to say, or any of the details of how they were going to handle this situation, but what he did know was that he didn't want it to begin with her pushing him away—not even as a request that he remove his hands from their position of support.

Kathryn reached her hand up and rubbed at her forehead as she sighed. The gesture was indicative that she had a headache and was usually a clear sign that she felt overly stressed about something. Chakotay couldn't remember her touching her head like that since they'd been stranded on the planet. She hadn't even had a stress headache the day that she and Carol had killed one of the large cats with nothing more than sharpened sticks and fierce determination—not letting Daryl or Chakotay know that the animal had come after them until it was dead.

"Doctor—I have to debrief the senior officers," Kathryn said. "Can I count on you, and everyone here, for discretion?"

"Of course, Captain," Kes said quickly.

"Of course," the doctor confirmed. "Doctor-patient confidentiality is in my program."

Kathryn hummed and nodded.

"Please see to it that you're…loyal to your programming at this time? Of course, Carol and Daryl are free to share their personal news at any time, and in any way that they see fit, but…"

"The same courtesy will be extended to you, Captain," the doctor assured her.

"Won't tell nobody," Daryl said.

"Kathryn?" Carol asked.

It was all she needed to say to express exactly what Chakotay was feeling and what Daryl's expression said he was feeling. Everyone had something to deal with, but they'd been through a great deal together. They'd planned—sincerely planned—to live out their lives together under conditions that would require them to be wholly dedicated to one another. Even as she was only beginning to calm from her own crisis, Carol wanted reassurance that Kathryn was fine or, at the very least, was better than she suddenly seemed to be.

Kathryn gave Carol a reassuring smile that was all but truly reassuring.

"I'm fine," she assured her, reaching a hand out to pat Carol's leg affectionately. "I can't—I can't put off this debriefing any longer. I need to find out where we are. What's taken place in my absence. Doctor—may I be released and reinstated as captain?"

"You're fine, Captain," the doctor said. "You're ready to take over when you would like, and you're free to go. I would prefer that you report to sickbay tomorrow. I would like to examine you to create a baseline for your prenatal care. We can discuss any concerns you may have, as well."

Kathryn simply nodded her head at him to confirm that she would do as he asked—and Chakotay would make sure that she did, even though he didn't say as much to the EMH—and then she left sickbay without saying anything to Chakotay or anyone else.

She was fastening her jacket, which had hung loose since she'd stepped out of her forcefield, as she hit the corridor. Chakotay followed behind her without a word to anyone.

"Are we not going to talk about this, Kathryn?" Chakotay asked, as he stepped forward to match steps with her. She was trying to move so quickly that she was practically running. There was no emergency, as far as any of them knew, and nothing on the ship would indicate the need for any such rush. Still, Kathryn was practically on the verge of stepping into a full run.

"I can't talk about this here," Kathryn said.

Perhaps the middle of the corridor wasn't the best place to discuss things. Chakotay accepted that, but he still kept pace with Kathryn. He waited into they were on the turbolift, and then he firmly commanded that the turbolift stop to allow them a moment of privacy.

"Nobody can hear us here, Kathryn," Chakotay said.

"What do you want me to say?" Kathryn asked.

"I feel like you've been asking me that a lot," Chakotay said sincerely. He swallowed down against the ache in his chest. He didn't like the atmosphere surrounding them. He didn't like the fact that he'd nearly had to run Kathryn down to talk to her. He didn't care for the fact that, even now, she was staring at him somewhat hollowly. "I want you to tell me the truth. Just this morning—even though it feels like it was a years ago—you said that you loved me."

"I do," Kathryn said quickly and defensively, stepping toward him and bringing them close enough to touch. At least there was that. At least her reaction was genuine. It made Chakotay feel better.

If her genuine, knee-jerk reaction was to insist that she loved him and seek him out physically, then that's what she meant. The rest of it—whatever that might be—was "Captain Janeway" trying to figure out how she should force herself to act in a situation for which she was unprepared.

Chakotay caught her by the upper part of her arms and squeezed.

"We said we were going to tell them at the debriefing that we discovered our love for one another on the planet," Chakotay said. "We said that we weren't going to hide it and we weren't going to make it something awkward. We would simply tell them that—during our time there, and when we were sure that we were going to spend our lives together there, we realized that we wanted to spend our lives together in every way possible."

Kathryn's lip quivered and Chakotay, suddenly mindful that her body was actually processing more than he'd ever imagined it might be when they'd talked that morning, didn't hold the threatening tears against her. He caught her chin gently with his fingers and then he leaned his head to gently kiss her. She returned the kiss, though she still looked quite bothered when he pulled away.

"We said we would tell them," Kathryn said.

"You still want to?" Chakotay asked. "I don't want to push, Kathryn. I don't mean to push. But—I don't want to lose you. And I've never been more afraid of anything than I am, right now, that you're pulling away from me as we speak."

"I want to tell them," Kathryn said.

"At the debriefing?" Chakotay asked.

"At the debriefing," Kathryn echoed. She smiled at him. He could see a little dampness shining in her eyes, but the smile was sincere. She touched his face and made a sound like an "oh" that he wasn't supposed to hear—a simply affectionate sound. It did wonders for untangling the knots that were forming in his chest. "I want them to know that I love you, Chakotay."

"We love each other," he said, catching her hand at his cheek and pulling it around to kiss her palm. She nodded her head.

"I'm afraid of what they'll say," Kathryn admitted.

"Everyone will be happy for us," Chakotay promised her. He hoped he was right. "We'll tell the senior officers and then we can make an announcement. You can make an announcement. However, you want to do it. We'll let the ship know and then it'll just be something everyone knows."

"We love each other and that's not going to change the way we run things on the ship," Kathryn said. "We'll have to assure them of that, and it'll have to be true. I was hired to be the captain of this starship. I wasn't hired to fall in love and live out some fantasy."

"I hear Captain Janeway in that," Chakotay said. "I wanted to talk to Kathryn."

"We're the same person," Kathryn reminded him.

"And you can be a captain while still having your fantasy," Chakotay said. "I know you. It's not going to change you to be in love, Kathryn. You're the most complex woman that I've never met. There's no way that you're unable to handle both roles."

"I need you to be right," Kathryn said.

"I am," Chakotay assured her. "And you're not doing it alone. I'm your first officer. I'll support you as Captain Janeway, just like I always have."

"And as Kathryn?" She asked with a smile that barely turned the corner of her mouth upward. Chakotay leaned to kiss her softly, again, and she returned it. She nipped his lip playfully when he pulled away from her and he was never more thankful for such a simple gesture.

"Always as Kathryn," he assured her.

"We'll tell them about the planet," Kathryn said. "About falling in love—being in love. And then we'll have them open a commlink to the ship. After the meeting."

Chakotay smiled at her and nodded.

"I'm glad," he said, catching her hand and holding it in his for the comfort and support it would offer both of them. "Are we going to tell them—about our most recent news?"

Kathryn raised an eyebrow at him like she didn't know to what he might be referring.

"The baby, Kathryn," Chakotay said. "You didn't forget."

"I didn't forget," Kathryn confirmed. "I'm not ready to talk about that, Chakotay."

It made Chakotay's stomach drop, but he nodded his understanding. It was sudden. It was new. She hadn't had time to process it. Neither had he. It was better to process it themselves before they told others.

"We have plenty of time to tell them," Chakotay assured her, working her hand in his. "The baby is—very small. We have plenty of time. We don't have to rush into things."

"If there is a baby," Kathryn offered.

"Don't let Carol scare you," Chakotay said quickly. "Her experiences are very different. She was raising children during the Millennium Plague, Kathryn. You read the statistics. Her children were almost guaranteed to die. That's not our reality, and you and I know that. She'll know it soon enough."

"I just don't know—if there will be a baby," Kathryn said.

Chakotay felt his stomach churn. He felt the sensation of something rising up inside him. He swallowed against it. He didn't want to be sick on the turbolift.

"What do you mean, Kathryn?" He asked. He still worked her hand in his. He couldn't stop. He couldn't release it. He was absolutely seeking comfort as much as he was hoping to give it, now.

"I can't be Captain Janeway…and Chakotay's lover, Kathryn…and a mother," Kathryn said. "It's too much and they aren't roles that are all compatible."

"You want four children, Kathryn," Chakotay said. "You told me yourself. You want four children."

Kathryn nodded her head.

"I do," she admitted. "I have for the longest time."

Chakotay laughed to himself. He didn't feel the laughter, but he wanted to feel it.

"The way we get four children, Kathryn is—we have to start with one," Chakotay said. "There has to be a first one. And maybe it's the scariest one of all because neither of us knows what we're doing, but we have to get through that one together. We get through that one together. And then we do it again, three more times. That's how we have four children, Kathryn."

"I know," Kathryn said. "But—that was when I could take leave. That was when I could…take a desk job for the majority of my pregnancy and take leave for the rest. It was—it was even when we were on a planet where everyone would understand that I was pregnant and…"

"Everyone will understand it on Voyager, Kathryn," Chakotay said. "It's less dangerous than the planet. You could take leave—we can work it out. If Tuvok can captain the ship for six months, he can captain it when you need him to. When we need him to. We can work this out."

"That's not what the crew expects from their captain," Kathryn said.

Chakotay took a breath and held it, trying to steady himself. He stopped working her hand, afraid that he would crush it without meaning to. He held it close to his chest. She could probably feel his heart pounding.

"What about what I expect from the woman I love?" Chakotay asked. "Do I get—some kind of say in this? I recognize that it's not by body, Kathryn, but it is my child. Don't I at least get the…don't I at least get the chance to defend its right to life? Don't I at least get to plead my case and…hear your concerns and do my best to solve them? Before you make the decision to…"

Kathryn frowned deeply when Chakotay broke off, not wanting to say it.

"I'm not making a decision right now," Kathryn said. "I don't know what to do, Chakotay."

"Then don't do anything until you're sure," Chakotay said. "Don't make a decision without me. That's all I'm asking. Can we—just talk about this?"

Kathryn nodded.

"But now we need to do the debriefing," Kathryn said. "Can we do that?"

"It's our duty," Chakotay said, hoping he could maintain outward calm and control. He released Kathryn's hand and she smoothed his uniform jacket and left her palm against his chest.

"Do you—still want to tell them you love me?" Kathryn asked.

"Nothing will ever change that," Chakotay said.

"Good," Kathryn said. "Because—I still love you. And I don't think—I don't know how I could live with myself if you didn't love me."

"I always will," he assured her.

"After our announcement," Kathryn said. "Do you think—you might like to move a few of your things into my quarters? Spend the night with me?"

"Absolutely," Chakotay promised her. "But—Kathryn? I expect for us to talk tonight. I'm putting things on hold for now, but I need for us to discuss this."

Kathryn smiled at him, softly.

"I never expected anything different," she assured him. She took a deep breath and collected herself. "I guess it's time for me to go do this."

"I'm right behind you, Captain," Chakotay assured her. "Always."


	39. Chapter 39

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"This one's just that button," Kes said, passing Daryl the hypospray. "It's programmed into the computer, so you can request refills from your replicator. The doctor will adjust it tomorrow, if her levels require it. And this one you can control with the dial. One is a very mild dose. Each increment is another unit. The doctor recommends not going over ten units in four hours, so you'll just keep track of that. That's refillable in sickbay."

Daryl's heart had been pounding in his chest for what felt like an eternity. The doctor thought it was better for Carol if she returned to their quarters and had an opportunity to rest. They both had a lot to think about, and they might do it better if they were given some privacy. Daryl had spoken to the EMH for a couple of moments in privacy, and he'd spoken to Kes for a moment. Then he'd taken Carol and they'd returned to their quarters.

Right now, Carol was sitting in their bedroom. She was just sitting there. She'd washed her face, and now she was just sitting on the bed, but Daryl had thought it was best to give her fifteen or twenty minutes to do what she seemed to need to do, even if it was just to sit there.

Daryl had not yet wrapped his mind around everything yet. He'd heard what the doctor said. He'd heard the sound of the heartbeat. There was a baby. Carol was pregnant. She was carrying a baby—his baby.

And he felt no way about it, really, at the moment, because he wasn't there yet.

His only concern, for the immediate present, was to make Carol feel better, and he was willing to do whatever it took to accomplish that.

"You got the other thing?" Daryl asked. "What I asked you for?" Kes nodded. She put a soft smile on her face and produced the small disc. Daryl turned it over in his hand. "How's it work?"

"It's a scanner," Kes said. "You just turn it on with this button, and you hit the button again to turn it off."

"Seems easy enough," Daryl said.

"The doctor will expect to see her tomorrow," Kes said. "Either way."

Daryl nodded his understanding and bid Kes a good night. It was early, and there was still much of the day left, but there wasn't much of a chance that Carol and Daryl would be venturing out of their quarters for a while. Carol felt safe and comfortable in their quarters, and Daryl thought it might be best for her to spend as much time there as she could for the day.

Daryl felt like the whole day had been very long, but they'd realistically spent relatively little time in their room before Kes had come with everything. During that short amount of time, though, they'd already heard Kathryn's message to the crew—she was happy to be back on the ship. She'd missed them all terribly. She and Chakotay—while on the planet—had found a loving relationship with one other, and they hoped to continue that relationship now that they'd returned to the ship. Nobody needed to fear, though. They would still serve the ship in the same way that the crew had come to expect, and Kathryn's door was open to anyone who had any concern that they would like to voice.

She hadn't mentioned their news, either. Everyone needed time.

Daryl slipped the disc into his pocket and carried the hyposprays with him to the bedroom. Carol was calm, at least. She'd left hysteria behind for the time being. The sedative probably helped with that, Daryl was sure, but he thought she was simply settling a little, too.

"We gotta talk," Daryl said. "You ready yet?"

"Sit with me?" Carol asked.

Daryl could hear the fatigue in her voice, but at least the sound of drowning in her tears was gone for a while. Daryl sat down, still holding the hyposprays. He put the one with the dial to the side. He hoped she wouldn't need anything more for anxiety, but he appreciated the doctor having offered it in case the need did arise. He held the other up.

"You were fightin' pretty good in there. You need to take this," Daryl said. Carol eyed the hypospray like it might be a snake. "Just vitamins, remember?" Daryl offered. She nodded her head and Daryl waited until she tipped her head to the side to make it clear she was baring her neck for him. He followed Kes's instructions and found it was easy to administer the vitamins. He put the hypospray to the side when he was done.

"What's in the other?" She asked.

"For if you get worked up again," Daryl said. "Calm you down if you get too bad. But—I'm hopin' you ain't gonna get to bad. Since we're just talking, right?"

He reached and took Carol's hand in his hand, and she tightly curled her fingers around his. He appreciated everything that small gesture said to him. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed quietly.

"I'm having a hard time talking," Carol said. "About—everything. When I think of saying something it just…"

"Hey," Daryl said, stopping her in case she was about to step off some kind of mental ledge again. "You were fine in there when we were just talkin' about a little alien thing. When it was an alien, you weren't worked up at all. Even though—shit, I'da been freakin' the fuck out if I'da had a whole ass alien takin' up residence in my body."

Carol laughed. She actually laughed. It shook Daryl as she leaned against him. It was the sweetest sound he'd heard since they left the planet.

"I wasn't afraid when it was an alien," Carol said. "I knew—the doctor would take care of things."

"Still will," Daryl said. "However you want, too. You can still trust him. Maybe—for just a lil' bit, we just…talk about the alien?"

There was a soft burst of laughter and Carol sat up.

"OK," she said. She nodded and Daryl moved to face her better.

"OK, we can talk—about the alien?" Daryl asked.

Carol nodded. The smile didn't fully fade from her lips. Daryl was glad to see it there, no matter what, exactly, had prompted it.

"Do you—wanna keep the alien?" Daryl asked.

"What do you want?" Carol asked. "I haven't even asked you what you want."

"I want the same thing I wanted before we knew there was an alien," Daryl said. "I want you to be happy. If it makes you happy, it's gonna make me happy."

"That's not going to be true," Carol said. "Not always. "And—you have an opinion. Would you—want to keep the alien?"

Daryl took a moment to consider it. Carol was looking at him like she wanted a genuine answer. She wanted to hear what he had to say. He nodded at her.

"Yeah," he said. "I mean—if it wasn't hurtin' you? I think I'd like the idea of it." He looked around the little room. "I think Voyager would be an alright place for a little alien. I don't think I—I ever really thought about it before. I mean there was nothin'—nothin' that was ever gonna make me sit down and think I had the right damn life for this. But…if you wanted it, and it weren't hurtin' you?" Daryl laughed to himself. "I don't think I'd mind havin' an alien around. And I certainly wouldn't mind havin' it with you."

Carol nodded. She looked a little pained. If it weren't for everything he was sure she was wading through in her mind, he'd ask her if there was something wrong with her.

"You want it?" Daryl pressed.

"If it's there, I don't want to lose it," Carol said.

"It's there," Daryl offered.

"But I'm afraid to—keep it, because I don't want to lose it. Now there's no way not to lose it," Carol said.

"Unless you just keep it," Daryl said. "Carol—look at me." She did look at him and he held her eyes. They were damp, but she wasn't threatening to grow hysterical again. This pain went far deeper than hysteria. "I don't know that it's ever gonna not hurt for you. Everything—if I'd've been in your shoes? I'd prob'ly still be cryin' on the floor in there. Not gonna lie. And I can't promise you that it's ever gonna not hurt. But I'm gonna do everything in my power to make sure that…you don't lose it. Not if you don't want to."

"What if it's not enough?" Carol asked.

Daryl felt like he might actually choke to death as his throat tightened. It wasn't a challenge. It wasn't anything against him. It was a sincere inquiry.

"Then we'll handle that, too," Daryl promised her. "But—we'll handle it together. You won't handle it alone. Because we both gonna—take care of the alien. Right? Love it?"

"While it's here?" Carol asked.

"We gonna do our best to make sure that's—longer'n we're here. Thing's prob'ly got like a hundred and forty years to live," Daryl said. "By then? We'll be good an' gone."

Carol's chin visibly quivered and a lone tear rolled down her cheek. Daryl brushed the tear away and Carol looked up like she was trying to keep from blinking more tears free. Daryl caught her chin and pulled her face back to look at him.

"Don't look away from me," Daryl said. "Don't you be ashamed to cry in front of me."

"I want it—so bad," Carol said. "But I'm—so scared. And it hurts, Daryl. It hurts—so much."

"Somethin' hurts like get the doctor in here?" Daryl asked. "Or you mean…?"

"I mean the wanting and the—not wanting," Carol said.

"Then you gotta let go of one of 'em," Daryl said. "Stop tearin' yourself in half. It's there. Right now. Maybe even listening to this conversation. I don't know how that works. The only thing you gotta decide is if—tomorrow, when I take you down to sickbay—if you want the doctor to give you a full examination and work up all your startin' points for this…for this crazy new thing we got goin' on in our lives…for our future. Or—if you want him to give you a special hypospray and this just goes away…and we don't gotta talk about it no more."

"Just because we don't talk about it…"

"I know," Daryl confirmed when Carol broke off. "I think, sometimes, that's been one of our biggest problems. Maybe we haven't talked about half the shit we shoulda talked about. Like if we don't talk about it, it didn't happen. But that ain't worked so far. Not for neither one of us."

"So, you want to talk about it?" Carol asked.

"I want you to close your eyes," Daryl said. "Just do it. Don't look at me like that. Jesus—if you don't trust me enough to close your eyes, what the hell am I even doin' here?" Carol closed her eyes in response. Daryl worked her hand in his. "I know we're gonna be workin' through it all for ages. Maybe forever. And I know it's gonna hurt—an' it's OK to cry if you want to. But—just for now—what was the best thing when you were…when you were pregnant? With Sophia. What was the best thing?"

Carol made a sound of discomfort.

"Just the good," Daryl reminded her.

"There wasn't as much good as I wanted," Carol said. "Ed was…"

"Ed," Daryl offered. "Ed was Ed. And I'm sorry for that. I swear to you—if it's me? It's gonna be different. I'ma do everything in my power to just…make it different. But—I just wanna know what was the best thing."

"I only really got to enjoy her when we were alone," Carol said.

"How'd you enjoy her?" Daryl asked. "What'd you enjoy?"

Carol smiled to herself.

"Her kicks the most," Carol said. "When she would get the hiccups or she'd kick me. Sometimes she'd just roll around."

"And you liked that?" Daryl asked.

"I liked just feeling close to her," Carol said. "Knowing she was growing. Nothing her daddy had done had…hurt her. She was just OK."

Daryl slipped his hand into his pocket. The other hand held Carol's just as it had. With his thumb, he pressed the button that would activate the disc. He palmed the disc and pressed it against Carol's body. For a moment, it found nothing. It hissed out static and she jumped—distanced from everything, for just a moment, as she'd retreated into a place, in her mind, where she'd been happy with Sophia. Daryl moved the disc. He heard the sound as the disc found what it needed to find. Carol opened her eyes to him and there was nothing he could do to stop himself. He kissed her because she looked so beautiful, and because the sound—a sound that almost made his heart beat just that fast—was undeniable and, for the first time, he could simply listen to it.

Carol returned the kiss, her hands going to his face. He let her hold the kiss as long as she wanted, and he held the disc in place.

When the kiss broke, Carol didn't break her eye contact with Daryl.

"It sounds so strong," she said.

"Perfect," Daryl said. He laughed to himself. "At least that's what the doc said. Perfect lil' alien…heartbeat. I had Kes replicate this for me. It's for you to keep. Figured you might like somethin' around to just…be reminded it's there. Whenever you want. If we keep it, of course."

Carol glanced down at the disc. She put her hand over Daryl's hand, and she gently rubbed his fingers.

"My heart's beating as fast as it is," Carol said, laughing a little.

"Mine, too," Daryl said. She kissed the side of his face, quickly and impulsively. She leaned her head against him and nuzzled him. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sound, and the affection, and the slightly lightheaded sensation that came with trying to take it all in. It wasn't reality—not yet. It felt more like some kind of sweet fantasy.

But then, everything had felt like some kind of dream since they'd first come to Voyager.

A few times, Daryl had wondered if they'd actually died when the Araulians beamed them up. If they had, though, this was certainly heaven and he had no desire to be anywhere else.

"Daryl," Carol said, nuzzling his neck.

"Hmmm?" He asked, not daring to move because he didn't want to risk shattering the moment.

"I want it," Carol said.

Daryl smiled to himself.

She sounded calm—and not artificially calm. She sounded confident. She sounded happy, again, with the same kind of sweet and sanguine sound she'd had on the planet. She sounded like it would take only a long, lazy kiss and the promise of a nap later to coax her to bed for the rest of the evening—especially if he promised to bring the disc to keep tabs on their little alien.

Daryl sighed with satisfaction.

"Good," he said. "Because I want it, too."


	40. Chapter 40

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I posted Chapter 39 earlier today. Please don't forget to read that one if you haven't! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Chakotay put the plate on the table in front of Kathryn.

"You have to eat," he said.

Kathryn looked at the food and pushed the plate away, sliding it close to the edge of her desk. She sighed and picked up another of the PADDs. If she intended to make it through the entire stack of mundane updates that were supposed to be summaries, from each and every station, of what had happened in all the months that they'd been gone, she wouldn't even sleep tonight.

Chakotay had done what she'd asked. He'd brought his things to her quarters. He'd even put them away, making space for himself in her room. He'd showered. He'd put on pajamas.

He'd waited for the chance to talk to Kathryn and she'd poured over PADDs.

It crawled on every nerve that Chakotay had in his body as though they were all electrified. He slammed his hand down on the desk. The plate with the sandwich and chips—something she'd mentioned might taste good, one night, back on the planet—rattled. A few of the PADDs clattered as they fell. Kathryn looked at him with wide eyes.

"Damn it, Kathryn," Chakotay growled. "You have to eat something! You have to stop—reading those stupid reports!"

Kathryn sat back in her chair. Her eyes were still wide, but she didn't give away any other feeling she might have.

"I have to catch up on the reports, Chakotay," she said. "I'm the captain."

"As you have reminded me every half hour since we got back to the ship," Chakotay said. "But you're off-duty, Kathryn. You need to eat. We need to talk. And those reports will be there tomorrow. Stop using that as an excuse!"

"Are you angry, Chakotay?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay swallowed. He didn't want to admit that his entire body felt like it was trying to turn inside out, starting with his navel. It wouldn't do them any good, though, to start this part of their relationship—if it were able to survive all of this—with lies and half-truths.

"I'm terrified, Kathryn," Chakotay said. "And maybe you've had the benefit of not seeing me truly terrified before, but this is it. This is…how I deal with it."

"Why are you terrified?" Kathryn asked. She looked genuinely concerned, and that was the only reason that her question didn't make Chakotay even more frustrated.

"I don't want to lose you, Kathryn," Chakotay said.

Kathryn smiled at him.

"I'm right here," she said, sweeping her hands out as though to say that what she was saying was obvious.

"Physically, you are," Chakotay agreed, nodding. "But emotionally? You've been distant since we made the announcement. You've been pouring over these damned PADDs like the information will disappear at 0500 hours. But everything you're reading can wait until tomorrow, Kathryn."

"And this won't wait until tomorrow?" Kathryn asked.

She got up. She walked around her desk. There was nothing between them, now. She reached her hand up and busied herself with searching for the pins that held her hair up. As she found them, and pulled them free, her hair started to fall.

"We won't be the same after tomorrow, Kathryn," Chakotay said. He stepped forward and touched her. He almost expected her to pull away from him. Her distance had been mostly emotional throughout the day, but the ache in his chest was evidence that he expected it to be physical, as well. He squeezed the upper part of her arms. Instead of stepping away from him, she stepped toward him. She held his eyes.

"I thought you said we wouldn't change," Kathryn said. "No matter what. You'd still love me."

Chakotay nodded.

"I will still love you," Chakotay said. "That won't change. But we'll change, Kathryn. One way or another. And—I have to know what you're going to do. We have to talk about that. You owe me that. The doctor's going to want an answer when you walk in tomorrow morning. Are we—doing this? Or are you deciding that we're not?"

Kathryn put her hands on her hips and practically squared up to him.

"It sounds like you've already decided what you want me to do," Kathryn said.

"Does that mean that you've already decided what you want to do?" Chakotay asked.

Kathryn frowned.

"I haven't decided either way," she said. She unzipped her jacket. "I haven't—thought about it."

"Because you've been hiding under reports, Kathryn, about supplies we need to get when we find a warp capable species that might have things to trade," Chakotay said. "You have to think about this. We have to think about this."

Kathryn took off her jacket and collected up the pins she'd taken out of her hair. Chakotay followed her as she went toward the bedroom. She started to hang up her uniform.

"I'm so glad you're taking it off," Chakotay said as he watched her. She glanced at him over her shoulder.

"I'm really not in the mood," she offered.

There wasn't really any malice to it, and Chakotay laughed.

"Neither am I," he admitted. "I just mean—I'd like to talk to Kathryn for a few minutes. I feel like I've been with Captain Janeway since we left the planet, and I just need a moment alone with Kathryn."

Kathryn smiled at him as she worked her way out of the rest of her uniform.

She was beautiful. She was always sexy. But, like her, he'd meant what he'd said when he said he wasn't in the mood. He wanted to be with her, but not in that way.

"Do you mind if I—bathe?" Kathryn asked. "You can keep me company."

Chakotay nodded at her. He followed her into the bathroom. He'd showered while she'd been working, and he'd been looking for ways to fill his time—especially since he found he had no ability to focus on reports and duty rosters when he was wondering how the rest of his life was going to go.

He offered her a hand as she stepped into the tub, and she lowered herself into the water that hadn't quite finished filling the tub.

"You said you wanted to argue your case," Kathryn said. "I know what you want, I believe."

"First and foremost, I want us, Kathryn," Chakotay offered.

"But you would like for me to have a baby," Kathryn said.

"I would like to have a family with you," Chakotay said. "And, until this morning, you wanted to have a family, too. When it was Mark that you were talking about, you wanted four children."

"That's not fair, Chakotay," Kathryn warned. "The situation was different."

"You were willing to give up command," Chakotay said. "Take a leave of absence. According to the timeline you told me that you had with Mark, you'd be on your second child by now. I can't help but feel a little…less than, Kathryn."

Kathryn washed. It was clear that she didn't intend to soak in this tub. She meant only to wash off the day—perhaps to wash off a great deal of what she was dealing with.

"I don't have the luxury of a leave of absence here. And I told you that I never loved Mark like that," Kathryn said. "He was a friend. He was safe. I didn't love him with the same kind of passion that—that I have for you."

"But you loved him enough to be the mother of his children," Chakotay said.

"I told you I wanted to be the mother of your children," Kathryn said. As quickly as she'd gotten in the tub, she was washed and she rose to leave the tub. Chakotay reached out his hands and caught her, whether she needed it or not, to make sure that she didn't slip. She didn't push his hands away. Instead, she thanked him when he released her and handed her the towel she'd soon reach for. He followed her back into the bedroom where she towel-dried her body to put on pajamas.

"You just don't want to be their mother now that there's actually a child in the question," Chakotay said.

Kathryn's frown was sincere. She dropped the towel on the floor. She let go of it, more than anything else, and she dropped down to sit on the bed.

Chakotay realized, when she put her face in her hands and rested her elbows on her knees, that he'd geared up to be angry at her. He was acutely aware of the tension in his body. His jaw ached as he consciously released the tension there. He had lashed out at her, and he'd prepared to lash out at her even more severely.

Her hair spilled over her shoulders and hid Kathryn's face entirely.

And Chakotay sat down beside her. He rested his hand on her back and, when she didn't pull away from him—even though he would have understood if, in that moment, she had—he pulled her so that she tipped toward him.

"I promised I'd help carry your burden forever," Chakotay said. "I can't help wondering if—I've only made it heavier, today. I love you, Kathryn. More than I've ever loved anyone. I find that terrifying and—maybe I haven't always been the best at handling my fear. All I want is to spend the rest of my life with you. Loving you. And—I'd love for us to have a family. When we discussed it on the planet, you said you wanted it. You still wanted four children, you said. No matter what, nothing was going to change your mind. You were excited about it when…when you might have starved through half your pregnancy and Carol would have been delivering the baby. I guess I wasn't expecting you to just—decide you don't want to have a family with me anymore. And that made me start to wonder—what else you're going to decide that you don't want, Kathryn."

She still hadn't come out of her position—one taken, clearly, to close herself off from everything for a moment. Chakotay sat with his hand on her back and kneaded her muscles. This time, he didn't push her. He simply sat and kneaded her muscles while she took a moment to remain as hidden from everything as her position would allow.

Finally, ready to face it all, she sat up and mopped at her face with her hands. Her shoulders sagged forward slightly—something unusual for her, but it spoke volumes to Chakotay.

"I still want a family with you," Kathryn said. "I have wanted to be a mother for—for a very long time. And, on the planet, I was finally starting to see that possibility. I was finally starting to accept that it could happen. It felt like we'd all figure out how to overcome everything. But I can't have a family with you now, Chakotay. It's too much. I can't—be the captain twenty-four hours a day, and be your lover, and give you everything you deserve, and be a mother. I just—can't be everything to everybody."

Chakotay let go, a little more, of his anger.

"You're Kathryn Janeway," he said. "And you're the strongest woman that I've ever met. And you can be anything and everything that you want to be. But—I've got a proposition. Just for you to listen." Kathryn nodded at him. His chest ached to see the pain in her eyes. "You're the captain, but that doesn't mean that you have to be on call twenty-four hours a day. You can put the command down. Pass it to me. Pass it to Tuvok. You can be on call for emergencies, when possible, but the day-to-day doesn't always require you to control everything. And—as a mother? You wouldn't do it alone, Kathryn. You'd do it with me and, I'd venture to say, the whole family that you've built here on Voyager." He sucked in a breath, considered what he wanted to say, and let it out. "I told you that I wanted to carry your burden. And I do. So—consider this. What if you were to put down the weight of some of that belief that everything is your responsibility and, by extension, your fault? You be the captain. Out there. But in here? You put the burden in my hands. On my shoulders. They're broad enough to help you carry it. I promise you that. Let me help you."

"You're going to—take control?" Kathryn asked. A hint of a smile played at her lips. It was the first that Chakotay had seen.

"If that's what you want," Chakotay said. "If it would help—relieve you of some of your burden. You could just put it down. I can handle things, for a while—for as long as you want, behind the scenes."

Kathryn's smile was a little more sincere.

"So, all I have to do is focus on being the captain," Kathryn said. Chakotay nodded. "And you'll handle our private life. Does that mean—you'll tell me what to do? Because I don't know what to do right now, Chakotay."

"The fact that you're so conflicted makes me feel like you know what you want to do," Chakotay said. "That's one decision that I can't make for you, Kathryn. If I make the wrong one, you'll blame me forever for ruining your life."

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"And if I make the wrong one, you'll blame me forever for keeping you from having a family and…I'll blame myself for keeping both of us from having a family," Kathryn said.

"If you feel that both of those are the wrong decision, does that mean that you would like to keep the baby?"

Kathryn nodded at him. Chakotay swallowed down the smile, only letting a little of it creep to the surface. He reached for her, and she let him embrace her. She kissed his jaw, and he let go of her enough to find her mouth. Her kisses were hungry and desperate. He did his best to satiate her hunger.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" He asked.

"If I could. I'm sure that's what I want," Kathryn said. "But I'm not sure that I'll be a good mother. I'm not sure I even know how."

"You have some time to learn," Chakotay offered. "But I'm sure you'll be a wonderful mother."

"I'm not sure what the crew will say," Kathryn said.

"I think you'll find them more supportive than you think," Chakotay said. "And, ultimately, it doesn't matter. You're their captain. You took a job to command the ship, Kathryn, on a three-week mission. You didn't swear to give them everything of yourself for the rest of your life. They'll understand that, and those who don't, will adjust."

Kathryn sighed.

"I don't know if I'll know how to balance everything," Kathryn admitted. "And that worries me."

"Then that's where I come in," Chakotay said. He stood up and reached his hands out. He caught Kathryn's hands and pulled her to her feet. "You've got your pajamas on. It's late. Go eat your food so you can get some sleep. Tomorrow—we'll go to sickbay first thing in the morning. From there, we'll handle the rest of it."

"We're leaving sickbay tomorrow—with a baby still?" Kathryn asked, waiting for Chakotay to confirm one way or another what they'd just discussed. He leaned and kissed her again. Her kisses were less hungry this time, but they were still a clear confirmation of her feelings.

"As long as the doctor doesn't say otherwise," Chakotay confirmed, "we're leaving sickbay tomorrow with a baby that has a great deal of growing to do. Now—come on. It's time for you to eat and go to bed, Kathryn." Kathryn smiled at him. Her cheeks blushed a little pink. "What?" He asked, raising his eyebrow at her.

"I—think I might like this," she said. "Could I trade dinner for a little time together before bed?"

Chakotay smiled to himself.

"Food's important to both of you," Chakotay said. "But relaxation and bonding time is, too. Go eat your dinner and I'll turn the bed back. I'll be waiting on you."


	41. Chapter 41

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I wrote Chapters 39 and 40 yesterday, so if you missed those, please be sure to go back and read them before you get to this one! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"That's baby's first holo-image," the doctor said. He was beaming and, honestly, it was the first time that Daryl found himself truly liking the hologram.

He'd looked pretty distracted, when they'd first come in, for something with no actual feelings. They were there to make a decision. Did they keep the baby, or were they going to choose the route of simply moving forward without it? Daryl had expected the hologram not to care either way, and he hadn't voiced his thoughts, but he'd actually looked pleased when Carol had requested that he do whatever he needed to do to make sure that everything was as it should be with the pregnancy. They were moving forward with it and, with that decision made, very little mattered more to either of them than making sure that everything went off without a hitch.

Kes had not been as secretive as the doctor about her feelings, and she'd hugged them both and warmly congratulated them the moment that they'd made clear their decision.

The doctor had made quick work of updating Carol's medical files, and she'd accepted, without any hesitation, anything he'd given her or insisted that he needed to take from her to prove that there was truly a little one and it was as healthy as it could be.

Daryl could barely look at the holo-image that was projected from the doctor's scanner—three dimensional so that he could turn it for them to see all sides—because he'd caught a glimpse of Carol's face out of the corner of his eye, and he wanted to watch her, looking like that, for the rest of his life.

He had never seen her look so radiant and so happy as she looked at just that moment. She didn't even look real to him.

"Our alien looks like an alien, Daryl," Carol said.

"Sure does," Daryl offered.

"Would you like to know the biological sex?" The doctor asked.

"You can tell that?" Daryl asked.

"We can accurately detect the biological sex at seven weeks past fertilization," the doctor offered.

Daryl looked at Carol, but the question had caused a slightly panicked look to settle on her face. Nobody else would have likely noticed it, but Daryl did.

"I think—we might wait on that," Daryl said. "Can we wait?"

"You can know any time you want," Kes offered for the doctor.

"Can I touch it?" Carol asked. She reached out toward the holographic image, but her hand passed through it.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said. "The image is three dimensional, but it isn't solid. For now, your little one can't be physically accessed very easily."

"And it's better that way," Daryl said. "Easier to keep safe and secure in there."

"You're sure it's healthy?" Carol asked.

"As far as I can detect, there are absolutely no problems. As the baby grows, we can scan for other developments, but it's as healthy as it can be at this time," the doctor said.

"I just thought—with my age…my eggs might not be healthy and…" Carol stammered, but she didn't complete the thought.

"Your remaining eggs were rejuvenated at the same time I worked on your abdominal organs and other organs," the doctor said. "I'm sorry, I assumed that you understood that. Your remaining eggs are every bit as healthy as they ever were."

"You mean there's more?" Daryl asked with a laugh.

"Absolutely," the doctor said. "Based on her health, and my scans of her ovaries and uterus, Carol should continue to ovulate for at least another five or ten years. We could use the same technology for her, though, that is often offered to women who have busy schedules and are unsure about when they may wish to build families. The body can safely carry offspring long after ovulation is complete. We also use a fertilization and implantation method for helping certain cross-species couples to conceive. We have small cryo-chambers that can hold eggs, in their frozen state, to be fertilized and implanted directly into the womb. If such a thing is of interest, I could easily freeze some of Carol's eggs and you could live your lives without concern and decide when and if you wished to fertilize the eggs."

"Would I have to—do that today?" Carol asked.

"You could do it any time you wanted," the doctor offered. "It's a simple procedure and the small cryo-chambers are as easily stored as any small supply container."

"Would it hurt the baby?" Daryl asked. "Like we should wait on that—if we decided we might be interested in it?"

"It won't hurt anyone," the doctor assured him. "It's a very simple transport procedure. The tools are very precise, so I could easily avoid disrupting the fetus in any way."

"Baby, please," Carol said. "I know it's the same thing, but…"

"You have referred to your own offspring as an alien," the doctor offered. "Forgive me for assuming that fetus was acceptable terminology."

Daryl heard a little evidence in the hologram's tone that he was at least slightly offended at being corrected.

"The alien's just—it's like a pet name," Daryl said. "We like it. We don't mean that it's actually an alien. We aren't idiots. We know the difference."

"Fetus just sounds cold," Carol offered.

"Nobody wants to sound cold," Kes offered. "The doctor's programming is fully adaptable, though, and this is hopefully only the beginning of welcoming new lives to Voyager. It's good to know that humans prefer the vocabulary of 'baby' over 'fetus' when discussing their gestation."

Daryl nearly laughed at Kes's words. There were always going to be some differences. He was still adjusting to being categorized as Carol's "mate," and he assumed that they'd both adjust to discussions about her "gestation" as time moved on.

"It's OK," Daryl offered, wanting to soothe things over. "Nobody's offended and feelings ain't hurt. Can we have the image, though? To—show everybody?"

Kes smiled.

"I'll load the images on a PADD for you," she said. "It won't be like this, but you can manipulate the image to see all sides."

"We'd appreciate it," Daryl said.

"I take it you're going to start telling everyone?" Kes asked.

Daryl laughed to himself. They'd discussed it that morning. There was no need to keep it a secret. Besides, the more people that knew about it meant the more people that would simply be looking out for the little thing.

"Soon as we hit that hallway," Daryl said, "we're tellin' everybody we see an' we ain't stoppin' until the whole damn ship knows."

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"Do you prefer the term fetus or baby?" The doctor asked. "I was told, this morning, that fetus is too technical."

"Baby," Kathryn said without even a second of hesitation. Clearly the word created the same kind of uncomfortable feeling it must have created in the person who had tried to educate the doctor. Chakotay assumed it might have been Carol, but he couldn't be sure since they'd all but issued a ship wide decree that everyone should go forth and multiply.

"Very well," the doctor said. "In another week, we should be able to determine the biological sex of your baby. If you're interested in knowing."

"We'd love to know," Chakotay said.

"Would we?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay looked at her. He hadn't thought that they might have different opinions about this. He hadn't even thought about his answer until it escaped his mouth.

"We'll have time to talk about it this week," he offered as a correction. Both Kathryn and the doctor accepted it.

Kathryn was clearly still a bundle of nerves, but she seemed dedicated, at least, to her decision. She handed herself over to be fully examined, and she waited out the collection of samples that the doctor wanted to examine as he updated her file to include the pregnancy.

"Have you decided when you're going to tell everyone?" Kes asked.

"We'd like to keep it between us for a little longer," Chakotay offered, already knowing the correct answer to that question. They needed time. They needed to discuss things. They needed to spend a little time just letting things settle in, and they needed to see what it was like for Kathryn to go through a normal day with the knowledge that the baby was there.

When it had settled in as reality for the both of them, they'd be ready to share it with the rest of the ship.

"You have plenty of time," the doctor offered. Their baby, after all, was miniscule and hardly there.

"We certainly do have time," Chakotay agreed, reiterating what he kept saying to Kathryn when her panic swelled up a little. She had time to deal with everything she worried about. They didn't have to have all the answers today.

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Carol had wanted to tell Neelix, and she'd wanted to do some cooking. She hadn't protested at all, then, when Daryl had declared that he'd like to tell B'Elanna, and he had something he wanted to request of the woman. Carol had kissed him, wished him a good day, and practically jogged toward the mess hall.

B'Elanna was off-duty, and Daryl was happy to find her in her quarters. She welcomed him inside, without hesitation, and she hugged him upon seeing him.

He hugged her back, surprised at how overcome with happiness he felt to see the half-Klingon again after so long on the planet. He'd assumed that, like everyone else on the ship, he'd simply never see B'Elanna again.

"It's good to have you back, Dixon," B'Elanna offered. "We didn't have enough cowboys on the ship while you were gone."

Daryl laughed to himself.

B'Elanna knew nothing more about cowboys than what Tom—her boyfriend, even though she didn't really call him that because, maybe, she hadn't realized that's what he was— had told her, and Tom knew nothing about cowboys beyond what his collection of old movies and old television shows had told him. Still, Tom had pointed out that Daryl was something like a cowboy—perhaps because he'd existed in something of a lawless land while they'd survived Walkers at every turn—and it was something that stuck for B'Elanna.

If he'd wanted to, Daryl could come up with any number of monikers to use to harass B'Elanna, but he was careful not to do that. She was sensitive. Being called cowboy didn't hurt his feelings, and he wouldn't do anything to hurt B'Elanna's feelings if he could help it. He stuck with what he knew didn't bother her—at least not when it came from him.

"Good to be back, Klingon," Daryl said with a laugh. "I figured you couldn't run this ship without my ass."

"That's why we went back," B'Elanna said. "But don't tell the captain."

"I'm glad you ain't on duty," Daryl said. "You got—somethin' you doin' right now?"

B'Elanna raised her eyebrows at him.

"Have you got something you think I should be doing?" She asked.

Daryl laughed to himself. He felt his face grow warm. It was his first time telling anyone. He had permission to tell B'Elanna. He had Carol's blessing to share the news with any and everyone.

It was still going to be a little difficult to say, though, because his mouth wasn't quite used to forming the words.

"Found out somethin' when we got onboard," Daryl said.

"Is this related to that clearance problem yesterday?" B'Elanna asked. Daryl nodded. "I was told it was just a problem with the scanners. A malfunction because of the Vidiian parameters we set on the contamination filters."

"It was," Daryl said. "And it weren't. Not entirely. There was somethin' that triggered it. We found out that—Carol's pregnant. It was the baby that triggered the whole thing to think there was some kind of contamination or parasite."

B'Elanna's furrowed brow gave her a slightly fierce appearance. Daryl was accustomed to her, now, though, and he wasn't at all bothered by it. She was simply processing things and her processing face appeared angry and aggressive. Then it softened.

"Carol's pregnant?" She asked.

Daryl smiled, pleased that she'd latched onto the right part of the whole discussion. He nodded.

"I'ma be a daddy," he offered. He didn't try to keep the smile off his face. "She's ten weeks and two days, according to the doctor."

"Congratulations," B'Elanna offered sincerely. "I have to find her. Tell her congratulations."

"Later," Daryl said, stilling her before she could try to leave her quarters to go and find Carol. "Listen—I need somethin' from you."

B'Elanna stared at him a moment. The look of processing her thoughts hadn't completely left her face.

"Why did Carol's pregnancy end up triggering the contamination alarms for Carol and the captain?" B'Elanna asked.

"Bug in the wirin'," Daryl said quickly.

B'Elanna looked at him in question, and he simply mirrored the expression for her. She was absolutely not done with that train of thought, and that's what Daryl was most afraid of when it came to trying to keep secrets from the ship's Chief Engineer, but at least he'd distracted her a little. He fully intended to distract her more.

"Look—Carol's a little worried. I'll explain it all to you, if you want, but we had some bad luck in the past. I got her calmed down and told her that—I'd help protect the baby against anything that come our way. But it don't look too promising if I can't even break up a fight between you and that asshole, Vorik."

"Hardly anyone could have broken up that fight," B'Elanna said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You're a master at them holo things," Daryl said. "Chakotay said so. I want—one that'll teach me to fight things like Klingons."

B'Elanna smiled at him.

"You want to fight Klingons?" B'Elanna asked.

"Prove to Carol that—I can take care of her," Daryl said. "Even here."

"You must really be a man in love," B'Elanna teased.

Daryl felt his stomach clench and his face run warm, but it didn't matter.

"I never pretended I weren't," he said. "You gonna help me or what?"

"I have a program," B'Elanna said. "And I've got some time. But—I want a trade."

"I don't got shit to trade nobody," Daryl said.

"I found some programs on the Millennium Plague in the database. Tom's been obsessed with it since you two came onboard. He's been researching the Plague and everything related to it. It's his new favorite thing. I'd love to learn to play the game with someone who's really experienced. Really knows what they're doing. I'd love help making it as realistic as possible. Then I could introduce Tom to it. If I teach you how to train with Klingons, will you teach me how to survive the Millennium Plague?"

"Walkers?" Daryl asked.

"Reanimated dead," B'Elanna said. "What do you say, Cowboy? A game for a game?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You got a deal, Klingon," he offered.


	42. Chapter 42

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**We have big things coming up, but we have a few housekeeping "daily life" things, for everyone, before that. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Carol was smiling when she came in the door of the ready room. She was carrying a small cake on a plate and, under that plate, it was evident that she had at least two other plates.

"What is this?" Kathryn asked.

"It's cake," Carol said, matter-of-factly.

Kathryn nearly laughed, both at Carol's tone of voice, and the fact that she'd come very close to telling the woman that her time with the ship's "morale officer" was clearly rubbing off on her.

Kathryn stood up from behind her desk and followed Carol to the little table in her ready room—a place where she normally sat for necessary discussions about how they would progress toward home. Carol put the cake down, separated out the plates, and walked over to the replicator to demand a pot of decaffeinated coffee, the necessary condiments, cups, and silverware for two, along with a knife for cutting the cake. Her order materialized immediately and she brought it over to the table before she sat down.

She looked at Kathryn and then stood up, rather abruptly. A smile curled up on side of her mouth this time.

"I'm sorry, Captain," she said, drawing out the title. "Am I not supposed to sit before you?"

"Please call me Kathryn," Kathryn said, not quite sure why the words stuck a little uncomfortably in her throat. "I don't want that to change between us. And—you don't have to wait for me to sit. I just—what is this? I mean I know it's cake, Carol, but…"

Carol smiled. She sat down again, and Kathryn sat next to her. Before she even answered, Carol started slicing into the little cake and separating the pieces out onto their plates.

"I told Neelix that I was pregnant," Carol said. Her cheeks blushed pink with the words, and she continued to smile to herself. She poured the coffee as she spoke. "He said that I needed cake to celebrate properly. I told him that people didn't normally have a cake just for being pregnant. They normally saved the cake for the baby shower, and that doesn't come until much later. But Neelix said that the only thing better for morale than one cake was two cakes, and I couldn't really argue with that. Then you called, so I thought you could share the cake with me. It's too much for one person."

When Kathryn didn't immediately take the cake plate, Carol picked it up and put it in her hands. Kathryn thanked her and accepted the silverware that was offered to her.

"You didn't have to share your baby cake with me," Kathryn said, laughing to herself.

"Daryl is off somewhere with B'Elanna," Carol said. "And—I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather share it with. Plus, you sounded a little urgent when you called me here."

Kathryn sighed and frowned at the cake. Something inside of her wanted the chocolate cake more than she could imagine wanting to eat anything at all. Something else, though, was too tangled up in nerves to even dream of enjoying the dessert.

"I feel silly asking you here, now," Kathryn admitted.

"I'm guessing it wasn't ship business?" Carol asked. She laughed to herself. "Not that I figured it was. I organize things for the doctor, sometimes, when Kes is off-duty, and I help out in the mess hall and airponics. I didn't imagine I was going to be someone you called in a real ship emergency."

Kathryn hummed to herself.

"This coming from a woman who—helped keep me from being killed by what Daryl called a saber-toothed tiger," Kathryn mused. "If you only work in the mess hall and, sometimes, in sickbay, that's because that's what you've chosen. I believe you could intern anywhere you wanted on the ship."

Carol tasted her cake, clearly not noticing—or choosing not to mention—that Kathryn had yet to taste her own.

"I like the mess hall," Carol said. "Honestly—I think I'd be sad if I were moved from there. It's nice. Neelix is always so happy and it's contagious. I need that."

Kathryn smiled to herself.

"Then you'll stay in the mess hall," Kathryn said. "From what I hear, the crew is fond of your dishes when you take over the kitchen for a shift. I've heard you can even make leola root not entirely unappetizing."

Carol laughed to herself.

"It's all in how you season it," she said. "And the key is soaking it before you cook it. It takes some of the bitterness and toughness out." She sighed and put the cake on the table. "But you didn't ask me in here to discuss the finer points of cooking leola root. What's bothering you?"

"I guess—I was missing my mother and my sister," Kathryn said. "I feel silly, now, that I called you in here for that. But—I was just…really missing them. And then, I started to miss my friend."

Carol smiled and reached a hand over. She patted Kathryn's arm affectionately.

"I didn't go anywhere," Carol offered. "It's the same as it was on the planet. I'm never too far away that I can't hear you when you call." She raised her eyebrows at Kathryn. "That's especially true now that I've got my communicator back." Kathryn smiled and nodded to acknowledge what Carol had said. "You want to tell me what you wanted to talk to me about? What you wish you could talk to your mother and sister about?"

Kathryn considered it a moment. She and Carol had grown quite close over their time on the planet. It had been like having her sister back, but without any of the sibling rivalry that had naturally been present with Phoebe. When she was with Carol, Kathryn felt like she could simply be "one of the girls." She could just be "Kathryn" without any expectation attached to being a leader. In fact, with Carol, she could seek some guidance instead of always feeling pressured to give it.

"I never had any practice being a mother," Kathryn said. "I was involved in so many other things, and I didn't even really play with dolls. I don't know how to be a mother, and I'm terrified that—I'm going to be horrible at it."

Carol's whole demeanor softened.

"I was so scared before my daughter, Sophia, was born," Carol said. "I didn't know—how I would keep her safe. I didn't know how to be a mother and I knew that my husband wasn't going to be any kind of father…"

"I shouldn't even be talking to you about this," Kathryn said. Her cheeks suddenly burned warm and she put her hands up to cover them and cool the heat that pooled there. "After everything you've been through as a mother, you don't want to hear that I'm scared that I won't know what I'm doing when…I'm not even in the same kind of situations that you were in."

Carol reached and moved the cake plate off of Kathryn's lap. She placed it on the table, and then she moved close enough to Kathryn to reach and pull her hands away from her face.

"Whether I was a mother in an abusive household or a world full of Walkers," Carol said, "some concerns are just universal. You want to protect your baby. You want to give them a good life. You want them to be loved and provided for. You don't want to screw them up."

Kathryn nodded her head.

"Sometimes there are dangers here," Kathryn said. "And the Delta Quadrant is unknown to us. We don't know what we'll be facing."

She saw the blood drain from Carol's face, but the woman regained her composure quickly. She passed on a smile that was a little less sincere than the one she'd worn before.

"That's where we've all got to work together," Carol said. "If you can run a whole ship, Kathryn, you can handle a family. Besides—you wanted four children, didn't you?"

"That was when my mother was going to be close to me," Kathryn said. "She would've been able to help me. She could have taught me what I needed to know and helped me figure things out."

Carol's smile renewed itself, this time more sincere than it had been before. She squeezed Kathryn's hands in hers.

"Then you're just going to have to settle for a friend who can help you," Carol said. "A friend who has a lot of patience and can teach you whatever you don't know. But, Kathryn? You already want to be a mother. You're already going to be a good mother, because you already love that baby."

Kathryn's face ran warm again. Her whole body ran warm and she slipped her fingers into the collar of her uniform, suddenly aware of how unforgiving the fabric was and how it trapped heat. She'd never noticed that it didn't breathe at all.

"I hardly know that there is a baby," Kathryn said.

"And still you love it," Carol said. "Just like a mother should."

"I can't say that I love it," Kathryn said. "How can I say that when—it's not even big enough for the doctor to tell what it is, beyond a baby, of course?"

"Because you wouldn't be so distracted, in your ready room, over whether or not you'll be a good mother in like—seven months—if you didn't already love that baby and want the absolute best for it," Carol said.

"You decided that you want yours," Kathryn said. She neither really meant it as a question nor a statement. She meant to open the door for Carol to talk to her about it.

"I don't think there was ever any question over whether or not I wanted the baby," Carol said. "I don't want—what I fear comes with the baby. I told you what happened—with all of my children."

"I'm so sorry," Kathryn said.

"You don't have to keep saying that," Carol said, "every time that I bring it up."

"I feel it every time you bring it up," Kathryn said sincerely.

"I'm very tired," Carol said. "The kind of tired that the doctor can't even help me with. And—I want this baby. As much as I want this baby, though, I want everything that this baby represents to me. I want a new life with Daryl. A whole new life. I want to build a family with Daryl. I want to be three hundred years and thousands of light years away from everything I knew before. I want—to bake cakes with Neelix and listen to his silly little Talaxian stories. I want to be a mommy again, and I want to worry about what normal mommies worry about—without all the extra of abusive husbands and walking, man-eating corpses."

Kathryn laughed ironically to herself.

"How do you feel about—possible hostile aliens?" Kathryn asked.

Carol winked at her.

"As long as Captain Janeway's running the ship, and my phaser is fully charged, I'm willing to take a few chances for a shot at absolute, unadulterated joy," Carol said. "Besides—I'm also looking forward to helping my…can I say best friend? Kathryn Janeway?" Kathryn swallowed, but she nodded her approval. Carol looked quite pleased with the confirmation. "I never had one of those before, either. I've had Daryl, but not a girlfriend. I'm looking forward to helping her get ready to be a mommy for the first time."

Kathryn smiled to herself and sighed.

"It sounds so wonderful when you say it like that," Kathryn mused.

"It's going to be wonderful," Carol said with a sharp nod of her head. "I have to believe that. I need that. More than I can express. So, you have to believe that. And—Daryl is thrilled. He's going to be such a good daddy. I'm actually going to be able to sleep, at least a little, and know that the baby is fine with its daddy."

Kathryn couldn't help but smile at the image. It was easy to imagine Daryl as a good father but, more than that, it conjured up images of her own domestic situation.

"Chakotay will be a wonderful father," she breathed out.

"I'm sure he will," Carol confirmed. "Are you feeling better?"

"I am," Kathryn admitted.

"Good," Carol said. "So, when are you telling the crew?"

Kathryn's stomach lurched, again.

"I don't know how to tell them," she admitted. "They're going to have every right to be angry with me. To feel betrayed. They should be my greatest concern. My only concern should be getting this ship safely back to Earth. They'll feel that I had no business falling in love with my first officer and getting pregnant with his child."

"That's not the way that I hear them talk about you," Carol said. She shook her head for emphasis. "And I hear everything in the mess hall. And, besides that, that doesn't sound like the crew that threatened mutiny to come back for you. If their concern was just getting safely home, Kathryn, then they wouldn't have done what they did. They would have simply continued safely home with a new captain. It's not really the captain that they're interested in—at least not as a title. It's the person. And everyone's always going to perform their duties better if the rest of their life is going well."

"Chakotay thinks I should tell them sooner, rather than later," Kathryn said. "He thinks they'll feel more upset that they found out late than…well, than they will over anything else."

"I think he's right," Carol said. "If you need a few days to let things settle, then, by all means, take those days. But after that? It's time to tell the crew."

"I don't know how," Kathryn said.

"Just like you told them about the relationship," Carol said. "Nobody's blinked an eye as far as I've seen. Let them offer their congratulations. Tell them you'll take their concerns into account and then file them in the garbage if you don't care for them. But let them in on the secret that their captain's brought a souvenir onboard from the planet."

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"Are you sure that you don't want to give up working in the mess hall and being assistant morale officer to be the ship's counselor?" Kathryn asked.

Carol shook her head gently.

"If you only knew how big of a fucking mess I am," she mused.

"You've helped me immensely," Kathryn said. "Just by being there. Just by being you."

"Someday, I may need you to repay the favor."

"You can count on me," Kathryn offered.

"I already knew that," Carol responded. She offered the cake plate back in Kathryn's direction.

"Eat your baby cake, Kathryn," Carol offered.

"Decaf?" Kathryn asked, gesturing toward the coffee on the table.

"Rule one of budding motherhood," Carol said. "Try to keep caffeine to a minimum. Their little systems can't handle it."

Kathryn checked her breathing. It was real. It was very real. And it was only beginning to really sink in. She tasted the cake.

"Decaf it is," she agreed. Somehow, she'd make do.

"Good," Carol said. "Now—when you tell the crew, make sure you tell Neelix you want a different kind of cake. And share it with me."

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"How do you feel about…something with a light flavor? Like strawberry?"

"Is that what the first baby wants?" Carol asked.

"The first baby?" Kathryn asked.

"Captain's baby has to be something like ship royalty," Carol offered with a shrug.

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"Chakotay's going to find that amusing," she said. "I guess—we'll see how I feel when I tell the ship."

"Don't wait too long," Carol warned. "It's really way more likely that they'll be upset that you didn't tell them than they will be that you did."

"Maybe tomorrow," Kathryn said. "Maybe I just need to sleep on it a little longer to feel—comfortable."

"Then I'll pray for you to have sweet dreams," Carol offered.


	43. Chapter 43

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**For those of you who don't know me/my writing (if this is your first story, welcome!), I focus on the main characters, but I do include "supporting cast" for my stories. Please be aware of that. Other characters will play parts throughout the story. **

**I hope that you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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"So, this is what a Klingon looks like," Daryl mused.

He walked around the Klingon and it snarled at him. He jumped. He hadn't expected it to do that just yet. B'Elanna laughed quietly, and he forgave her the laughter at his expense.

"It's in selection mode," B'Elanna said. "He can't do anything but go through some pre-set motions. It's just for choosing opponents. Besides—safety protocols are on and functioning."

"The hell does that mean?" Daryl asked, finishing his walk around the Klingon male and coming back to stand near B'Elanna.

"Safety protocols mean that nothing in the holodeck can hurt you," B'Elanna said. "It's like a three-dimensional game, but you can't be truly injured in any way."

"Does that mean I can't learn to fight with 'em?" Daryl asked.

"It just means that it'll be like training and not like high stakes combat," B'Elanna said. She smiled at him. "And with a little Dixon on the way, I think Carol would prefer it if I didn't put you in any games where you're at risk of being disemboweled."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Touché, Klingon," he teased. "I'd hate to lose your ass in a world full of Walkers, too, when the time comes, so it's probably for the better. This asshole—he look like your old man?"

"My old man?" She asked.

"Your old man," Daryl repeated. "Your father. You know."

B'Elanna frowned, and Daryl wondered if he'd said something wrong. The frown didn't fade entirely, but B'Elanna lightened a little.

"My father was human," B'Elanna said. "My mother's a Klingon. Computer—load Program Opponent KAF02."

There was a beep from the computer and the angry male Klingon that Daryl had circled vanished. He was immediately replaced by a female of the same species.

"This your Ma?" Daryl asked.

"My mother is a Klingon," B'Elanna said, "but not this Klingon. I just—randomly generated figures."

"I guess you don't wanna fight your parents," Daryl offered.

"I wouldn't necessarily say that," B'Elanna said. "But I come here to…escape?"

Daryl nodded at her and circled the female Klingon. He didn't jump, this time, when she growled at him and somewhat lunged in his direction as a threat.

"Can you put the other one back? For if we're gonna fight?" Daryl asked.

B'Elanna smiled. There was some mischief there. Daryl already knew she was going to give him hell, and he was already excited about it. B'Elanna knew how to dish it out, but she also knew how to take it, and that was refreshing. She clearly appreciated, too, that Daryl didn't back away even when she simply needed to blow off steam. This wasn't about blowing off steam, though. This was simply friendly teasing, and Daryl was more than prepared to handle that.

"A female warrior's too much for a cowboy like you?" She teased.

"I don't like hittin' women," Daryl said. "Kind of—a thing I got."

"If you're determined to travel the universe fighting Klingons," B'Elanna offered, "or any aliens, really, then that's a thing you might want to get over. Most females aren't going to be holding back just because of their biological sex."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Don't I know it," he said. "Dedicated my life to one damn female that would kill you as soon as look at you if she didn't see some other way around it. I didn't say I wouldn't hit women—not if there's no avoiding it—just that I'd rather not. So, for the sake of learnin' to fight a Klingon, I'd prefer it if you put the other one back. Besides—if I can beat him, I can beat her, right?"

B'Elanna hummed to herself.

"Computer—reload previous opponent," she commanded. The computer complied immediately. Daryl stepped away from the simulation and lit a cigarette for himself. He put some distance between himself and B'Elanna to try to be polite, in case she was bothered before the filters cleared the air, but she stepped close to him, clearly unbothered. "Klingon males are traditionally stronger, physically, but Klingon females to tend to be the more vicious and cunning warriors."

Daryl smiled to himself.

"Ain't that the same no matter the species?" He asked. B'Elanna arched an eyebrow at him in question. "Everybody who knows shit about animals knows that—there ain't a damn thing fiercer, in any species, than a mother defendin' her young. And, in a lot of species, the second most ferocious thing is a female that's defendin' her mate or her clan or whatever."

"Are you suggesting that Klingons are animals?" B'Elanna challenged. It wasn't sincere. Daryl could see exactly what it was. He'd refused to fight her, when they'd first come in the holodeck, as his first opponent. Now she wanted to do a little verbal sparring since he wouldn't accept a training weapon from her to go straight for her literal throat.

"I'm suggestin' we all animals," Daryl said. "Listen—there's no damn need in me hidin' it, or playin' coy, or whatever the hell you wanna call it. I told you already that I love Carol. Hell—I'm glad to finally be able to say it. I love her so much that…so much that it scares me. It's scared me for a long ass time. But—Carol? She's sweet. Soft. Friendly. Every damn thing you want her to be. And she'll be that. Anything and everything you want her to be. But she'll also rip your throat out if she don't see no other way around. So—don't be fooled, and don't back her up against no wall." He shook his head at her. "Especially not now. After everything she's lost before?"

"What happened?" B'Elanna asked. "Out there? To you. To both of you."

Daryl shook his head.

"You don't got time for that shit if we're gonna do some fightin' before your next shift starts. Suffice it to say that we both lost everything and everyone we ever gave a shit about. Only good thing that come outta the plague was findin' each other," Daryl said. "Hell—it weren't like neither one of us went into it with a whole lot, but anything we had, we lost. Carol's been through four kids. She loved 'em and she lost 'em in some of the ugliest damn ways your nightmares could make you think of. That livin' hell y'all call the Millennium Plague took all of 'em—one way or another." He walked over to one of the receptacles that functioned like trash cans that, oddly enough, never had to be emptied. B'Elanna had explained to him that, essentially, absolutely everything was recycled these days. He dropped the cigarette into the receptacle. "That shit can't happen again. She don't lose this one. We don't lose this one."

"Hey—you've got a whole crew on your side now," B'Elanna offered, her tone softer than before. She smirked, though, making it clear that she intended only to be compassionate, but not to drastically change her behavior. "Even a half-Klingon, if that's worth anything."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Worth at least somethin'," he offered.

"Honestly, though," B'Elanna said, her facial expression and change of tone shifting to something more sincere, "I think—it's wonderful." Daryl only had to make a face at her for her to clarify what she meant. "The way you clearly feel about Carol. The way she must feel about you, too, but…just that you see her for exactly what she is. You can say that—she might be a lot to handle, but you're happy with that. You support the existence of that part of her."

"More'n support it," Daryl said. "It's what the hell she had to do to survive. I wanted her to survive."

B'Elanna nodded.

"My point is—that's the way it should be," B'Elanna said. She looked back over her shoulder at the Klingon suspended in something of a shining beam of light while he hovered in some kind of select mode. He was a program—something pretend—and, as such, he didn't have the sentience to know that he wasn't real. He went through the motions he'd been programmed to perform while trapped there, waiting to be chosen. B'Elanna watched him a second before looking back at Daryl. "My father left when I was young," she said. "He said—it was too much. Living with my mother and I. Living with two Klingon women—it was too much."

Daryl's stomach twisted.

He wasn't that great with comforting people. He tried. And, certainly, the time he'd spent in what he now knew would be called the Millennium Plague had taught him a little more about comforting people than he'd learned growing up. The only thing he really had to draw from, when it came to figuring out what to say to somebody, was to imagine what he would want to hear—or maybe what he wished that someone had said to him when he'd needed similar comfort.

It was clear that, for the sake of his friendship with B'Elanna, he was going to have to say something. She was putting this out there for him as an offering, of sorts. Luckily, this was an area where he felt he had something to draw on.

"That don't mean shit about you," Daryl said. "Or your Ma. If he left—it don't mean that you were too much. Means—he weren't enough." A hint of a smile played at B'Elanna's lips. "You know—Tom saw you fightin' with Vorik," Daryl offered. "And I just gotta say that…I don't see him shyin' away none because of it."

"We're just—friends," B'Elanna offered. Daryl laughed to himself.

"You and me are just friends," Daryl responded. "Tom? If you just friends, it's 'cause you decided that's what you want. That's all I'ma say. But—just 'cause your old man was an asshole? That don't mean that there's anything wrong with you."

"You sound like the authority on assholes," B'Elanna teased after a sigh.

"My old man was an asshole, too," Daryl said. "It took Carol to make me realize that—it weren't about me. Not really."

"He left?" B'Elanna asked.

Daryl shook his head.

"Mostly he just taught me that, sometimes, there's worse things than leavin'," Daryl offered. B'Elanna gave him a somber expression.

"I'm sorry," she offered.

"Don't be," Daryl said.

"Don't bullshit me and tell me you're over it," B'Elanna said sharply and quickly. "I know that—it doesn't go away."

"You right," Daryl said. "It don't. But rather than think about what kinda fuckin' shit show my life's been up until now? I wanna focus on—what the hell's comin'." He shrugged his shoulders. "I've got Carol. We've got a kid that's, for fuckin' real, on the way right now. Like the little thing has a heartbeat and everything. Shit—I guess, it don't go away. You're right about that. But, maybe it just don't matter. And—hell—maybe the asshole done somethin' decent with his life, because he sure as shit taught me what the hell kinda—Daddy I wanna be, and what the hell I don't wanna be, too."

"You're going to be a wonderful Daddy," B'Elanna offered.

Daryl felt his face flush warm. Those words were better than any comfort she could try to offer him over his asshole old man or the nightmare that had been his life up to now.

"Thanks," he offered sincerely. "Maybe you remind Carol of that if she ever gets to doubtin' it," he teased.

B'Elanna laughed to herself.

"I'll remember to mention it when I go for lunch," she said. "Along with my congratulations—just in case."

"You gonna teach me how to fight Klingons? So, I can get around to helpin' you rig up a program for your boyfriend that you're determined to keep sayin' is just a friend?" Daryl asked.

"Don't you dare," B'Elanna said, pointing her finger at Daryl. He smiled to himself.

"I don't make promises I can't keep," Daryl said.

"I'll take a bat'leth after you," B'Elanna warned, barely able to contain the smile that she was doing her best to hide under the ferocious Klingon countenance that she could pull off well—at least when she was sincere.

Daryl hummed at her.

"Then you better hurry up an' teach me how to fight Klingons," Daryl said. "So, I know I got a fightin' chance."


	44. Chapter 44

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Daryl had disappeared for most of the day. Carol hadn't been worried, she'd gotten information, from B'Elanna, that had confirmed that he'd remained in the holodeck playing with the simulation Klingon game that held his fascination for hours. Carol had let him be. She had busied herself with other things, and she'd let him have his fun. Eventually, she knew, he'd come back—and she'd been right.

He should have been exhausted. When he got out of the shower, he should have been dragging himself to the bed to rest. Instead, he came out of the shower with a seemingly endless amount of energy and dripping testosterone as much as he was dripping bathwater.

Carol had never heard Daryl speak as enthusiastically as he spoke about the rush of managing to kill the first of his Klingon opponents after studying their battle tactics and learning how to get the best of the alien. His enthusiasm for having killed the simulated Klingon quickly turned to declarations of his willingness to fight the entire Klingon Empire for her—if that's what was required of him—and those declarations had turned to husky-voiced declarations of love.

Carol's entire body responded to the fact that, even after his shower, Daryl practically smelled of testosterone. It radiated off of him and she'd unapologetically pushed him to the bed and crawled on top of him to show her appreciation for even the most unnecessary efforts to protect her that he could demonstrate.

Now, he was still breathing heavily from their exertions, even though they'd been simply resting together for at least fifteen minutes. Though much of his body had tagged out for at least a while, his mind still wasn't entirely satiated. In response to what his mind still seemed to need of her, he was peppering Carol's body with kisses, tracing every mark and scar, all of which she'd considered having removed before, with the tip of his tongue as he passed them.

Carol groaned out her appreciation as he stopped, his mouth paying special attention to the skin just below her navel, to allow his hands—trailing under her—to squeeze her ass and massage it.

He dragged his teeth gently across her skin and growled at her in response to the groan of appreciation, before he moved his hands and, panting from his mental stimulation every bit as much as he had been from his earlier physical stimulation, he rubbed his hand over Carol's abdomen and kissed the area with the same hungry intensity as before. Then, he moved, pushing himself up, to line himself up with Carol before he rested his hand on her stomach again.

"I can see it," Daryl said.

"What?" Carol asked.

"The alien," Daryl said with a smile. "I can see it. Growing. I mean—it's you, but…I can see you've grown."

Carol hummed at him.

"There's nothing there," Carol said. "Except maybe some fat, but that isn't…it's just fat. If there's anything. There's nothing there."

He frowned at her.

"I know what I see, Carol," he insisted.

"And I know that we didn't know it was there two days ago," Carol said. "There's no way there's anything visible there now."

Daryl frowned at her, brows furrowed.

"I see it," he said, sounding, for just a split second, like a child that was angry that their beliefs were being picked apart by someone being cruel to them.

And it struck Carol. It all struck her. The realization that everything that Daryl had probably ever wanted or believed as a child had been torn apart, systematically, one piece at a time. Everything good, more than likely, that he'd ever believed or felt—in the time when he was most vulnerable—had been ripped away from him and ripped in half right before his eyes.

All he wanted, at that moment, was to believe in something good. He wanted to trust that he could see something he wanted—something they both wanted—dearly.

Carol's chest ached, and her throat felt tight as she swallowed. She forced a smile and nodded at him.

"You know," she said, hoping he didn't hear the rasp in her voice that her tight throat caused, "I did kind of think my pants were—a little tighter. You…" She paused, clearing her throat. "You think…maybe they really were?"

Daryl's features softened. He relaxed. He brushed his fingers over her, again. He nodded, returning to plant a single kiss just below her navel before he moved to look at her again—this time with a soft smile playing at his lips.

"You oughta wear them dresses you had on the planet," Daryl said. "There was room in 'em. You said they were comfortable."

Carol smiled to herself.

"Tomorrow," she assured him.

He rested next to her, propped on his elbow, but he didn't move the hand that was resting on the evidence he was convinced he could see of their little, growing, alien.

"You want a boy or a girl?" Daryl asked. "Alien—I mean."

Carol smiled to herself. She felt the familiar tightening in her chest.

"Whatever you want," Carol said.

"I don't care," Daryl said. "From what they say—hell, we could probably have a half dozen of each if we wanted 'em. Maybe even pick and choose each time. I'm just—askin' what you want."

"Right now, I don't know," Carol said.

"You don't want to know?" Daryl asked.

"When I think about it," Carol admitted, "I can hardly breathe. I see Sophia. I see Henry. No matter what I think it might be? I just see—them. I see something happening and I see their turned faces. I think—it's going to look at me with eyes like that…"

Carol closed her eyes. The sharp pain in her chest, made her pulse pick up. It was difficult to breathe, suddenly, and that realization only made it more difficult to breathe—it always seemed to compound itself.

She heard Daryl's voice, too distant, at first, for his physical proximity, and she felt his hand running smooth laps around her body.

"Nothings going to happen," he assured her. "Nothing's happening right now. It's just you and me. Just you and me, and we're just talkin', and not a damned thing's happening. We ain't in that world no more. We ain't in that life no more. All that's back there—a world away. Three hundred years away. It's just us, now."

He kept talking, and Carol was thankful for that. She appreciated it. Slowly, she latched onto his words. She listened to them. She practically absorbed them. The muscles in her body let go, one by one, of the tension they were storing. She relaxed back into the mattress. She felt the comfort of the bed around her. She felt Daryl's closeness and smelled the sweat from the love they'd made—the scent was strangely comforting and hanging in the air around them. She opened her eyes to him and he smiled at her before planting a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth.

"Hey," he said.

Carol smiled to herself.

"Hey," she echoed.

"It's a different world now," Daryl said. Carol nodded. "Little alien—conceived in outer space? That's a whole different ballgame." Carol laughed, her chest loosening even more.

"It is," she ceded.

"What you think—you might like that alien to be?" Daryl asked. "Boy or girl?"

"I can't choose," Carol insisted. "I want—everything with you."

Daryl smiled.

"We'll work on it, then," he said. He laughed to himself. "Gotta start somewhere."

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Kathryn was practically buzzing. Chakotay imagined he could almost hear the electricity of nerves running through her body. Still, he would take this uptick of energy and enthusiasm over the low that she'd been suffering since finding out about the baby any day.

She was just finishing the braid in her hair. He watched her as she manipulated the last length of her hair, the elastic already prepared around her fingers in some way—evidence that she'd been doing this for years. She was pacing around the living area of her quarters—their quarters—while she worked. Her feet were practically keeping time with her fingers. Chakotay sat on the couch and watched her. The vision of her, in her nightgown, was one he never really tired of anyway.

"What do you think?" She asked.

"Any way you want to do it, Kathryn, is fine with me," Chakotay offered. "I promise. I'm not going to be bothered either way."

"I just think—if we make a big production of things," Kathryn said, "then we're inviting more criticism from the people who would just want to be negative."

Chakotay hummed.

"You may be right," he said, feeling that she needed him to simply agree with her so that she could continue to walk—and work—things out for herself.

"If we're casual about it," Kathryn said, "then I think they'll be casual about it. It'll just be something that they all know about. A natural occurrence."

Chakotay laughed to himself. He shifted on the couch, uncrossing his legs, and patted the space beside him to try to subtly invite her to sit with him. She stopped pacing just as she secured the braid, which would keep her hair from tangling horribly during the night, with the elastic. She turned and headed toward him.

"Whether we announce it dramatically or just as another piece of random information thrown out to the ship at shift change," Chakotay said, "it's still going to be perfectly natural." Kathryn reached him, but instead of sitting on the couch next to him, she crawled on top of him, facing him, and straddled him. She rested in his lap and he happily caught her around the waist to make sure that she didn't accidentally topple backward. He hoped she wouldn't be offended by the fact that his body naturally responded to such a position with arousal, and he gently kneaded the skin beneath his fingertips as he held her. "There's nothing unnatural about the woman who—once, not so very long ago—promised to spend the rest of her life dedicated to me, discovering that she's carrying our child. In fact, for as much as I've ever learned about any number of species and civilizations, that's one of the most natural things that can occur between a man and a woman who are very, very much in love with one another."

Kathryn kneaded his shoulders beneath her own fingers in the way that he was kneading her hips. She purposefully rolled her hips, her eyes never leaving his, and made it very clear that she was fully aware of his arousal—and she was enjoying it.

"It's perfectly natural," she said. She almost purred the words. The quality of her voice only added to Chakotay's desire to move just enough to free them both from the few scraps of clothes that stood in the way of bringing them together. He tightened his hold on her, his fingers digging deeper into her skin as she rolled her hips again and smiled. It was almost an evil smile, and he appreciated everything that was behind it.

"The only thing more natural than the baby being there," Chakotay offered, "is the act of—of love and dedication to one another that got it there."

"Love," Kathryn echoed. She kissed Chakotay and lifted herself off of him enough that he could slip one hand between them. He was wearing nothing more than underwear and it took very little effort to free himself enough for what they both wanted—something fast, urgent, and perfectly timed. "Just love?" Kathryn asked, her arousal showing in her eyes.

"Passion," Chakotay offered. She moved to come out of her underwear and Chakotay held her to ensure that she didn't fall as she manipulated the panties to work her way free from them.

"Desire," she offered, sliding fully onto him. She closed her eyes to him and he massaged his fingertips into her skin as she made the first quick movements that both of them ached for.

They ignored the first chirping of her combadge. They ignored the first chiriping of his, as well. Instead of answering the call, Chakotay sped up their pace, and Kathryn dropped a hand between them, both of them determined to get what they wanted before the urgency of the calls mounted too high.

Kathryn came first, thanks to her efforts to help move things along as quickly as possible, and Chakotay had only barely reached his climax before Kathryn was running after the combadges that—having moved on from simple chirped requests—were now issuing forth the request, in Tuvok's voice, that either Captain Janeway or Commander Chakotay answer the call.

"Yes, Tuvok," Kathryn said, immediately upon reaching the combadge. She did her best to control her breathing. Chakotay could tell that. "What is it?"

There was a pause as, without a doubt, Tuvok dealt with the quick lapse in professionalism.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything, Captain," Tuvok responded.

"No," Kathryn said. "We were—just getting ready for bed."

"You may want to report to the bridge, Captain, as quickly as possible," Tuvok said. "We have encountered an encrypted subspace message from a message buoy. We have unencrypted the message, Captain. I believe that it's one that you'll want to hear."

"Can it wait until morning, Mr. Tuvok?" Kathryn asked.

"I believe that you would not wish to wait until morning, Captain," Tuvok said.

"Very well," Kathryn said, accepting that the Vulcan was conveying as much urgency as he possibly could. "I'll be there in a moment."

"You will want to bring Commander Chakotay, Captain," Tuvok offered. "The message is, arguably, more for the commander than it is for Voyager."


	45. Chapter 45

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**For my Voyager people, please know that I'm not following the show/canon exactly (hardly at all). I do have a few lines and plot points, though, that will be familiar. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Kathryn sat and watched Chakotay as he processed things. It was like watching a storm brewing. She knew it had the potential to get bad, but there was nothing she could do except sit and give it time to turn into whatever it was meant to be.

The message that had come through was a roughly and hastily recorded video message. It went to audio, partway through, suggesting that things had gotten as terrible as Seska—the woman speaking in the message—had suggested they might.

Seska had been a lover of Chakotay's when he'd been captain on his Maquis ship. It was only once they'd all been thrown into the Delta Quadrant that they discovered that Seska had actually been a spy the whole time. She'd been a Cardassian spy, surgically altered to appear as a Bajoran. She'd meant to use Chakotay and nothing more.

She'd betrayed Voyager. Since their first moments in the Delta Quadrant, they'd been fighting against a problematic and warring species—the Kazon—that regularly turned up to try to do the most damage they could to Voyager and her crew. Their goal was to gain control of Voyager so that they could strip her of her technology and, more than likely, could use her crew for their own gain. Seska had turned, and she'd aligned herself with Culluh, who was the First Maje of the Kazon-Nistrim sect. She'd regained her Cardassian appearance, and she'd fully embraced her Cardassian personality. She had helped Culluh capture Chakotay, once, and torture him to try to gain information about Voyager and her technology. And, in a move that Kathryn could only see as purely one of cruelty and manipulation, Seska informed Chakotay that she'd stolen his DNA to impregnate herself.

Her most recent message—the one that had just played out and was still playing in Kathryn's mind—had been from a frantic Seska. She'd shown them the infant—Chakotay's son. Maje Culluh, she said, had been angry upon discovering that the child she'd given birth to wasn't his own. He intended to kill Seska and, possibly, to kill the baby. At the very least, he intended to send the child to a slave camp.

Seska had begged Chakotay to come and save the baby—not for her own good, she'd claimed, but for the good of his son.

Kathryn had done the only thing she could do on the spur of the moment. She'd directed Tom to drop them out of warp and to inform Engineering that they could work on any short-term repairs that needed to be made. That would cover questions about the delays while they essentially hung in space and waited for other orders.

Then, she'd dragged Chakotay to her ready room for him to begin working through the situation at hand. He would need to work through this, but Kathryn didn't know, yet, what kind of storm he'd have to pass through before he got to a place to handle it calmly and rationally. For the moment, he was practically wearing a hole in the carpet.

"She has no right to ask this of me!" Chakotay finally exploded, his words slamming into Kathryn. Both of them were only somewhat properly dressed at the moment. They'd rushed to the bridge at Tuvok's urging—Tuvok having been called by the Gamma shift because the message seemed important. Kathryn's hair still hung in a braid down her back. Much of the Alpha shift crew had been called back to the bridge, and they were in similar states of disarray. Every breach of protocol, at the moment, was forgiven. They were all tired, but this was an emergency that needed to be handled by those who were directly involved and, in many cases, the most capable.

"She knew that she could get to you," Kathryn said. "She knew you would feel a sense of duty and responsibility toward your son."

"He's not my son, Kathryn," Chakotay protested. "At least—she stole my DNA."

Kathryn nodded her head.

"And you feel violated right now," Kathryn said. "Rightfully so. But—she knew that wouldn't stop you."

"The child did look like it could be part human and part Cadassian," Chakotay said. Kathryn quietly nodded her agreement. He needed her there for support more than he needed her there for anything else at the moment. "It would be about time for her to deliver."

"It's reasonable to think that someone as hot-headed as Maje Culluh would be angry if he didn't know about the child," Kathryn said. "If he thought it was his child and then it turned out it wasn't? I wouldn't be surprised if he killed Seska, and I could imagine he'd be capable of doing anything to the baby. Seska would know that you would come and try to save the child."

"Do you think it could be a trap?" Chakotay asked.

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"Do I think Seska is capable of lying to you and manipulating you?" Kathryn asked. "Absolutely."

"Then I'll go alone," Chakotay said.

"I'm certain that you must know me well enough, Chakotay, to know that I would never allow you to go into a Kazon-Nistrim stronghold on your own. Nobody on Voyager would allow that." Kathryn sighed. "Seska would know that, too. And you can bet that she'd use that to manipulate the both of us."

"You and I both know that this could be a trap," Chakotay said. "Something to get us to walk Voyager right into Kazon space and hand her over to be picked apart by those vultures."

Kathryn nodded her head.

"It could be," she said.

"I can't let that happen," Chakotay said. "If I go, I have to go on my own. I can't—see the whole ship in trouble for me."

"Let's get one thing straight," Kathryn said, "if we go—if anybody goes? We go together. We're a team. A family. We stick together. And if we get in to trouble, we do that together, too. It's not your fault, though. Nothing that happens is going to fall on the shoulders of one person."

Chakotay laughed to himself. Kathryn's chest tightened at his expression. She could practically feel the pain coursing through him.

"Except for the captain's," Chakotay said. "Right?"

Kathryn smiled to herself. She touched his face. He closed his eyes to her touch and then turned his face to kiss her palm.

"My shoulders are stronger than they look," Kathryn said. "If someone has to shoulder responsibility for this, I'm the captain. I can handle it. But—I'm certain that I speak for the entire crew when I say that, if you want to do this, you will not do it alone."

"I don't want to do this," Chakotay said. He shook his head. "I didn't want this child."

"I understand that," Kathryn said. "But—you need to think long and hard about the implications of this. If you want us to leave, we will. I'll tell Engineering we need the warp drive and we'll reset our course for the Alpha Quadrant. Before I do that, though, you need to think about this. Are you going to be able to leave your son behind, Chakotay? Never knowing what's happened to him?"

Chakotay frowned at her, and then he did his best to steel his face.

"Seska never should have put me in this position," he said.

"You're right about that," Kathryn ceded. "But Seska never cared about anyone but herself. If she had, this would have never happened. Seska doesn't matter anymore, Chakotay. All I'm asking you to think about is what you want. What you can live with?"

"What about you?" Chakotay asked. "What can you live with? If something happens—if we're all captured. If we're all killed. Can you live with that? Am I forcing you to live with that?"

Kathryn knew that there were risks involved. Of course, there were risks involved.

"We're Starfleet," she said softly. "We know the risks."

"That's fine for Starfleet," Chakotay said. "But what about the members of our crew that aren't Starfleet? What happens to them? Neelix and Kes, Carol and Daryl? We just watch as they end up Kazon slaves?"

"You and I both know that, if that happens? We won't be watching," Kathryn said. "Because they'll have already had to kill us both. Still, those are the risks of life on a starship."

"What about—if we find the baby?" Chakotay asked. "If we recover it? Then what? What does that mean for us? For you and me, Kathryn?"

Kathryn's heart chose an uneven beat for a second. She kissed Chakotay, doing her best to wipe away some of his concern with her affection.

"Chakotay, if we find your son, then we'll raise him," Kathryn said, pulling out of the kiss. "We'll care for him. As our own. There's nothing else to discuss about that. This decision is not about what's good for the ship or what's good for—for our relationship. We'll handle all of that. The only concern you have right now is coming to terms with all of this and deciding what you want—what you can live with."

"I'm going to need some time," Chakotay said. "To think."

Kathryn nodded her head.

"Just don't take too long," she offered. "We have no idea how long those coordinates Seska sent will be correct."

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Carol took the knife from Daryl and turned it over in her hand. She'd almost forgotten the weight and the way it felt in her hand. As soon as she slipped her fingers into the knuckle-buster handle of the knife, though, she felt a familiarity seeping into her and running through her veins.

"Here," Daryl said, offering her a leather sheath.

They were clean. They were brand new. Otherwise, they were absolutely perfect replicas of the knife and sheath she'd carried for years.

"Are we really going to need these?" She asked, sheathing her knife and slipping it into one of the boots she'd replicated when he told her that it was best to have a pair.

"I'd rather have it and not need it," Daryl commented, slipping his own knife into the sheath on his belt, "than to need it and not have it. That's for damned sure."

"I can't disagree with that," Carol mused. She checked the charge on her phaser, too, and decided to replicate an extra power cartridge for it, as well.

She didn't know much about what was happening. Kathryn was busy, at the moment, and didn't have the time or opportunity to fill Carol in on everything—though she'd promised to brief her, as soon as possible, as a friend instead of a crew member. Daryl had gotten a bit more information from B'Elanna, since she'd had Engineering at work on a project that, from what Carol could tell, would essentially end up being something like a trick with smoke and mirrors.

They were going up against some alien species. The aliens were aggressive, power-hungry, and they wanted Voyager. Carol didn't understand how, and Daryl hadn't gotten the specific information from B'Elanna, but they had a woman—apparently some former lover of Chakotay's—that had given birth to Chakotay's son. Now the Kazon—the aliens— wanted to kill the woman and, possibly, to kill or enslave the infant. They were going to stop that from happening.

They really had no idea if it would come down to a fight or not. They were hoping for the best, of course, but Carol and Daryl were more than accustomed to preparing for the worst.

"Here," Daryl said. "I—got somethin' else for ya."

"What is it?" Carol asked.

Daryl offered out something, and Carol smiled to herself as she accepted it. She smiled at him.

"A bracelet?" She asked. It was braided twine.

"You missed the old one so damned much," Daryl said. He shrugged his shoulders to allow the gesture to finish saying anything he maybe thought he couldn't say.

"This one is different," Carol said. "It has flowers." Braided into the tan twine were three white flower-shaped beads.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I asked it to make me Cherokee Rose beads," Daryl said. "After about two dozen messages about not being able to comply, I asked it for them white flowers. Got that and the string. Fixed it up for you in between followin' B'Elanna around and checkin' on power relays."

"You made it?" Carol asked.

"Braided it," Daryl said with another shrug.

"Why didn't you just replicate it already made?" Carol asked.

Daryl searched her face. She would have thought that the anxiety on his features when he looked at her like that would be gone by now, but it was still there. She smiled at him. He seemed to relax, just a little.

"Because I knew—you wouldn't look at me like that if I just replicated it. I know it's not the best, but…"

"It's perfect," Carol assured him. He smiled, clearly pleased with himself.

"Three little flowers," he said. "You, me, and the alien."

Carol laughed to herself. She offered him the bracelet and her wrist.

"I love it," she assured him. "Put it on me? Please?" He nodded, accepted it, and knotted it on her wrist. She pretended not to notice that his fingers were shaking. She didn't know if it was because she still unnerved him or because he was afraid of what was coming. At the end of the day, it didn't matter anyway, and it was probably a bit of both.

As soon as the knot was in place, Daryl raised Carol's hand up and kissed the underside of her wrist, just where he'd knotted the twine.

"You don't have anything," she offered quietly when he straightened up to look at her. "I don't have anything to give you."

"Gimme a kiss," he offered. "And I got everything I need."

Carol smiled at him, nodded, and then obliged his request as best she could.


	46. Chapter 46

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I wrote another chapter for this one earlier today. If you missed it, please make sure that you go back and read it. Also, don't forget to let me know what you think! I always love hearing from you!**

**There's a lot of borrowed technobabble and such in this chapter. I borrowed heavily from the show for different events in this chapter because they're simply good for setting things up. From here, we'll be doing quite a bit of departing from where the show takes us, but I won't spoil much more than that. **

**I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"B'Elanna—report," Kathryn demanded. She waited a moment. She closed her eyes. She tried to convince herself that this wasn't happening—none of this was happening. The lights on the bridge flickered on, flashed off again, and then flickered back to seemingly full power. Kathryn sucked in a breath and, upon releasing it, she touched her combadge. "I want a full report."

"Captain, we've got power again, temporarily," B'Elanna said.

"What happened?" Kathryn asked.

"It was an internal explosion," Tuvok said. "There are damage reports coming in from all decks. Casualties reports are coming in. The explosion appears to have originated on Deck 8."

"Deck 8—Tierna's quarters," Chakotay offered.

"In other news, Captain, we've got more company," Tom announced. "A third Kazon ship just showed up."

"Power failures are being reported on all decks," Tuvok said. "There was an explosion in engineering."

"B'Elanna, area you alright?" Kathryn asked.

"We're fine," B'Elanna said. "We've temporarily lost power to warp drive, and we blew a few consoles with that last electrical surge."

"We have more company, B'Elanna," Kathryn responded. "We need that warp drive online to get us some distance."

"I'm sorry, Captain," B'Elanna said. Her voice scrambled. The lights flickered again. They were hit, once more, hard enough that the whole ship rocked and lurched. The steady hits were starting to become commonplace. It was only the really direct hits that got their attention anymore.

Before Kathryn could even demand a report, they started pouring in. They were bombarding her. Drowning her. They came from every direction, and she heard them in every voice. She could hardly distinguish one from the other, now.

It was never supposed to happen like this, but it had.

It had all gotten out of hand much too quickly and much too completely.

Before they had even reached the coordinates transmitted to them with Seska's message, they'd encountered a small shuttlecraft. It was heavily damaged and floating in space without the use of its power systems. Its life support had been failing. Their scanners had detected a Kazon life sign onboard, and they'd immediately transported the Kazon to their sickbay. It had taken the doctor some time, but he'd brought the Kazon back around—a man named Tierna, which Chakotay could identify from his time spent being tortured by the Kazon.

After giving him time to think things over, Chakotay had chosen to go after his son because he knew he couldn't live without knowing what happened to the child. Kathryn understood his feelings and, when she made the announcement to the crew that they were going to try to rescue the infant, nobody had questioned her decision. Either they all understood and supported the decision or, at the very least, they weren't going to voice their disagreement with the plan.

The original plan had been to approach cautiously, figure out whether or not this was some kind of trap, and proceed from there. Their intention had really been to remain distant enough to see the trap befor they were ensnared. They had a few small tricks up their sleeves, just in case they discovered that this wasn't a trap and they really were going to have to engage the Kazon, but the greatest of their tricks involved using holoemitters to project a holographic fleet that would make it appear that Voyager was not travelling, and therefore not attacking, alone. The hope was that they could get out of the whole situation with little more than some very convincing threats.

Chakotay interrogated Tierna, but his story didn't shed too much light on anything. It only stood to confirm what Seska had said, and to further the story by letting Chakotay know that Seska was dead and Culluh intended to trade the infant as a slave among the other Kazon sects, given that slave trade was an acceptable form of obtaining goods and information among the various—and often warring—sects.

As it turned out, they hadn't even been given the chance to try to negotiate with Culluh. As they'd continued on into Kazon space, they'd been hit—and then they'd been hit again. First it was just one ship, and Kathryn had thought they might have a chance. Then it was two, but she'd held onto hope. Now a third had arrived and her optimism was fading quickly.

Holoemitters were gone and any dream they had of their smoke and mirrors trick working was gone with them.

The ship rocked hard again. Kathryn reached for the bar in front of her, meaning to steady herself. She hit her knees, but she was back on her feet, she hoped, before anyone else could even notice that she'd even gone down.

Reports of damage spilled in around her.

Everyone was doing their job. Everyone was working as steadily as they could. 

"Evasive maneuvers Mr. Paris," Chakotay announced. "Gamma sequence five."

"Response teams are being sent to handle reports of electrical fires on Decks eight, nine, and sixteen," Tuvok announced.

"Heavy damage on Deck 8," Harry announced. "Reports are coming in of plasma leaks. It would be advisable to seal off the area."

"Dispatching teams to evacuate and seal off the area," Tuvok said.

"Where are we evacuating Tierna?" Chakotay asked. "And isn't Suder on Deck 8?"

Suder was confined to quarters for the rest of their trip for murder. He was confined to quarters for his violent tendencies and delights. Somehow, Kathryn was starting to think that it wouldn't matter if he escaped the hold of his escorts or not.

"Move Suder and Tierna to the brig," Tuvok demanded.

Kathryn wondered how many of her crew were still capable of listening. The power flickered here and there. Sparks flew from consoles. Carol had wanted to come to the bridge. She'd wanted to experience what Kathryn experienced on a regular workday. Kathryn had given Carol a simple job of monitoring one of the consoles that would have required little more of her than making connections between lines that blinked requesting reconnections as station transfers were required. Normally, she would have needed to make one or two transfers a day. During all of this, she would have never been able to keep up, especially as systems shorted out and stations went dark.

Her station, however, had gone dark, already, in a shower of sparks. Kathryn had heard her surprised yelp, and she'd dared to cast a glance in her direction, but she was no more damaged than the rest of them. Terrified, probably, but not damaged.

"B'Elanna, how long until we can have warp drive?" Kathryn asked, keeping her voice as steady and calm as she could. Everyone around her was doing their best. She was doing her best. None of them would benefit, though, from feeling her stress. In fact, they would all perform better—think better—if they believed that Kathryn still believed they could come out of this with very little damage or, at the very least, with very little more damage than what they'd already suffered.

"Shields are at sixty percent, and falling," Harry announced.

Kathryn ignored him. She waited for B'Elanna's reply. She knew that engineering, very likely, was experiencing more trouble than anywhere else on the ship. B'Elanna, thankfully, was good at putting out fires—literally and figuratively—and she had some of her strongest team members on deck at the moment.

"B'Elanna, can you still read me?" Kathryn asked, hoping that the flickering power hadn't cut them off entirely from one another.

"I'm attempting to bypass the containment field generator," B'Elanna responded. Her voice crackled with the damaged lines. "At this time, I'm unable to say when we'll have warp."

"Continue evasive maneuvers, Mr. Paris," Kathryn demanded. "We can't outrun them, so we'll have to do our best to outsmart them."

"Aye, Captain," Tom announced.

"There's no outsmarting three ships, Captain," Chakotay offered. "We've tried every trick in the book. There's just too many of them targeting us at once."

Kathryn allowed herself to only glance at Chakotay. He was doing his best to control his emotions. He was tapping into his inner-captain, and he was doing everything he could to remain calm. Like Kathryn, he knew that the crew would benefit more from level-headed leadership. He was also doing everything he could to help Kathryn answer questions and field the incoming onslaught of reports.

She could hear it in his voice, though, and she could see it in his eyes. She could practically smell it in the air around them as it mixed with the scent of scorched electrical workings.

Chakotay was actively blaming himself. He was feeling guilty. Kathryn, too, could feel guilty for the whole thing, if she wanted to, but she knew that the middle of a firefight wasn't the place for guilt. It was an emotion, honestly, that was best consumed alone and in the quiet that followed the end—whatever that end might be.

They weren't at the end. Not yet. And she would hold on until she was certain that there was nothing else to hold onto.

"I'm certain Mr. Paris has a few more tricks up his sleeve," Kathryn offered as a way to bolster Tom's confidence while he flew the ship and did his best to dodge the fire that rocked them from time to time. Kathryn made her way to her command chair and sat down. Each time the ship strongly rocked and lurched, she lost her balance. Her bridge crew's morale didn't need to be brought down by seeing their captain hit her knees one too many times as the ship felt like it was being torn apart by enemy fire.

Another jolt shook the ship and the power that had been on for a moment flickered off again. Somewhere there was the crackle of electricity, but Kathryn was almost certain that there couldn't be too many consoles left to blow.

"Navigation is offline," Tom announced.

If they didn't get navigation up and running, they were practically dead in the water between three firing Kazon ships.

"We've lost power to forward phasers," Tuvok announced.

Now they couldn't even fight their way out of the situation—not that they were making their way out before.

"Shields are at thirty percent," Harry announced, the sound of his feelings about the situation starting to come through in his voice. She could hear it. Almost like a child, he was begging for answers. He was begging for her to do something. To save them all. Harry still believed that Kathryn was, somehow, immortal and something of a miracle worker. "They're buckling, Captain!"

The next round of sizzling explosions sent out the sounds of a few people screaming along with the electrical pops and hisses. Those people had been shocked, or worse.

"Report," Kathryn demanded, though she didn't want to hear what was being said.

"The driver coil assembly has been destroyed," Harry said. "Impulse engines are offline."

They were dead in the water. Their shields wouldn't last through another hit like the one they'd just taken. They had no weapons. They were entirely vulnerable.

"We're being boarded through the shuttle bays, Captain," Tuvok offered. Kathryn's stomach tightened and lurched. More than any of the physical slinging about she'd suffered in the firefight, the words that came out of Tuvok's mouth, next, gave her the desire to empty the contents of her stomach right there on the bridge. She might have, if it were even possible for her to remember the last time she'd eaten or even drank something. She listened as Tuvok reported phaser fights throughout the ship.

The Kazons were boarding Voyager. They were swarming Voyager. As they moved through the ship, and closer to the bridge, they were taking control of as many areas as possible and overpowering crew members. Kathryn had no way of knowing how many of her people were dead and how many were injured.

She had no way of knowing how many more of them the Kazon would kill, and how many of them they'd take prisoner, bend to their will, and turn into slaves for their own sect and other Kazon sects.

They may have lost Voyager—Kathryn may have cost them that—but she'd do everything in her power to try and save them from suffering at the hands of the Kazon.

"Begin evacuation," Kathryn announced. Chakotay started the announcements to try to let crew members know what was going on. The hope was that some of them, at least, would be able to save themselves.

Kathryn glanced around at the people on the bridge. Many of them were looking at her. They were expecting answers. They were expecting some last minute, amazing salvation. She didn't have the answers to offer them that they hoped for. She knew, without any doubt, that those of them on the bridge would never make it to the evacuation pods. She let her eyes fall quickly over the faces around her, but she didn't dare to let them settle. She could hold her voice firm and strong, but she couldn't hide the sorrow in her eyes. The pain she felt at having failed them all.

"Computer," Kathryn announced, "initiate self-destruct sequence. Authorization Janeway pi 1-1-0. Set at ten minutes."

The computer beeped.

"Unable to comply due to damage to secondary command processors," the computer responded.

"The escape pods won't launch," Chakotay informed her, another report streaming in to go with the others that she heard announcing the few power and systems failures, throughout the ship, that they didn't already know about.

Kathryn's stomach knotted.

They couldn't evacuate. She couldn't get her people off the ship. She couldn't even set the ship to self-destruct to save them all, that way, from the Kazons.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She felt slightly dizzy. The sorrow she felt for her people washed over her. There wasn't time for her guilt. There wasn't room for it. Not here. She would deal with it later—not quite knowing what later may hold for any of them.

"Stay where you are, don't move!"

Kathryn felt a chill run through her as she heard the words announced. She turned to look at the bridge doors just in time to see two of her crewmen fire at the Kazons. One of the Kazons went down. Two of her crewmen dropped as they were struck by the Kazon's phaserfire.

"Hold your fire!" Kathryn commanded as sharply as she could. There was no need in seeing more death than was necessary—more than was inevitable.

Kathryn watched, for a moment, as the Kazons rounded up the bridge crew—those who were still conscious—and everyone that they'd apparently found close to the bridge. They brought in the few they'd gathered from outside the bridge—B'Elanna and Daryl among them. Kathryn could only imagine that, in the last moments, knowing that everything they could do was done, Daryl had made a run for the bridge and, for whatever personal reason, B'Elanna had followed.

Now, along with everyone else on the bridge, they were forced forward by phaser and told to kneel in a circle on the floor.

Kathryn moved when she felt the butt of the phaser rifle between her shoulder blades. She stepped forward, with the others, and she knelt down at the spot they indicated on the floor—next to B'Elanna, with only B'Elanna between her and Chakotay.

Kathryn wanted to tell them all that she was sorry, but the last thing she wanted to do was appear weak in front of the Kazons. She steeled herself entirely and turned toward the Kazon that held a rifle next to her head as though she were likely to make a run for it or attempt to disarm him.

"I want to speak to Maje Cullah," Kathryn demanded.

"That can be easily arranged, Captain."

Kathryn turned, just in time to see Culluh, smirking, as he stepped onto the bridge. He was flanked by Seska, who was holding the infant she'd used to lure them there.

"Hello everybody," she said, her voice sending shivers of annoyance up Kathryn's spine.

"Finally," Culluh said with a bit of an excited sigh, "Voyager belongs to the Kazon-Nistrim."

Kathryn's heart thundered in her chest. She wasn't sure what she was going to say, or how she was going to talk their way out of this, but she knew she had to try.

Otherwise, they were all going to belong to the Kazon-Nistrim.


	47. Chapter 47

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**This one is a little longer than usual, but this was all that I felt needed to be included. **

**I hope that you enjoy! Please let me know what you think! **

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"What do you think about your son, Chakotay?" Seska asked. The words were hard enough to hear, but Chakotay found that the expression on her face turned his stomach worse than anything else. "He has your eyes, don't you think?"

Chakotay tried to swallow back his anger as much as his disgust.

Around him, the remaining members of the bridge crew that hadn't been grievously injured in the firefight or killed by the Kazons, knelt on their knees. He glanced at them. He saw the injuries they'd sustained. He saw the fear in their eyes, even when they tried to conceal it. He saw the absolute insecurity. In Kathryn's eyes—which she tried to keep from lining up with his or anyone else's—he caught snatches of the overwhelming grief and guilt she was feeling.

This was his fault as much as it was Kathryn's fault. It was more his fault, really. If he had been able to turn his back on the child—a child he never consented, in any way, to bringing into the world—then none of this would have happened.

"May he never know the contempt his father has for his mother," Chakotay offered.

"It would be very unlikely that he would," Culluh offered, turning around in his spot as he surveyed the damage of the bridge at a glance. He turned back to face them all—everyone remaining still and quiet, as requested, with multiple phaser rifles pointed at them from every direction. "I intend to raise him as my own. He'll be a great soldier for the Kazon-Nistrim. He doesn't need to know about a man who had so little decency as to violate a woman serving under his command."

Chakotay's stomach clenched. He saw Seska's facial expression. He saw the nerves that flashed there, for just a split second, before she got them under control. She was afraid that her little sandcastle made of lies would crumble. The only reason it wouldn't, honestly, was because Culluh wasn't likely to believe anything that any of them said—and he didn't care what they said.

"Is that what she told you?" Chakotay asked. He didn't say anything more. He didn't have to. Culluh wouldn't listen and Seska knew the truth. If anyone had been violated in the creation of the child she held in her arms, it was Chakotay. He turned his eyes away from the woman, unable to even look at her for the anger she caused to boil in his chest.

"Culluh," Kathryn said, quickly getting to her feet to get the Kazon's attention, "I want to talk about what happens next…"

Culluh's response to Kathryn was to land a slap, hard across her face, that took her off of her feet. Chakotay moved forward in time to catch her and break her fall. The surrounding Kazons closed in on them all, a little, sweeping their phaser rifles in one direction and then the next, to make it clear that they were ready to fire on anyone that was moving in a manner of which they did not approve. Kathryn was out of Chakotay's arms nearly as soon as he'd caught her, and she took her position on her knees, again, this time facing Culluh.

"It's time that you learned your place," he said. "All of you Alpha Quadrant women—that's the problem with you. Seska was the same way, at first. You don't know your place. But you will."

"What do you intend to do with them?" Seska asked.

"Yeah, what exactly do you plan to do with us?" Tom echoed.

Culluh turned to face Tom, and an extra rifle pointed in his direction, but Tom had really done little more than ask a question, and there was very little reason to shoot him for that. Culluh smiled, but it was the smile that could never be believed on a Kazon.

"I have so many options," Culluh said. "The most appealing, of course, is finding you a new home. There's a planet in the Hanon system where I often leave slaves who just won't seem to learn how to behave. To date, none of them have been alive when I've returned for them."

"Are you fuckin' serious?" Daryl said suddenly and sharply. "We're just gonna sit here and let these Dollar Tree Klingons take the damned ship?"

The response he got for his outburst was a quick swat with a rifle—enough to warn him, but not enough to seriously injure him or—and a verbal warning from the Kazon who had hit him. He brought the rifle up to point it directly at Harry, who was kneeling directly next to Daryl.

"I would suggest that you all carefully consider your actions," Culluh said. "The Kazon-Nistrim prefer to act without warnings. We're showing you great constraint while we decide what to do with you."

"We could kill them on site," one of the Kazons offered. "There's no need wasting time in travelling to the Hanon system just to leave them for dead."

Chakotay glanced around the circle again. Everyone looked defeated—at least to some degree. Some were more stoic than others, and some were better at hiding it, but it was clear that they could have hardly scraped together enough morale, between them, to have registered on some kind of tricorder. Daryl looked duly scolded for his outburst and, in response, he held his hands up in the traditional Terran signal of surrender, while he kept his eyes on the Kazon warriors that had been chosen to circle them and threaten them with death by phaser rifle.

"How long before we're able to move?" Culluh asked one of his men.

"We'll have several teams working on repairs," the Kazon offered. "The technology is new to us. I would estimate that we're at least several days before having complete control of the ship."

Culluh sighed. It was a bit overdramatic and clearly put on a little for emphasis.

"I guess I'll have a few days to decide what's best to do with you. Of course, I would have preferred to have kept the ship in good working order," he said. "You put up quite the fight. More than we expected. It seems a shame to simply kill such good stock—or to leave you to die."

"They're not worth anything to you, Maje," Seska offered. "They'll be more trouble than they're worth. They've proved that by fighting against the Kazon."

"Please! Please…don't do this…please…please…you can't do this…please…I'm begging you. Don't do this…please."

The tear-soaked string of pleaded words poured out of Carol like a dam had been broken. She turned toward Culluh and, instead of remaining fully upright on her knees, she leaned forward a few times like she was bucking under the sheer weight of her sadness.

Chakotay felt for everyone in this situation. How could he not? But he especially felt for Carol and Daryl because they were not Starfleet. They had not signed up for this. They'd been snatched out of their world and their time. They'd been forced to accept everything in an instant, and now they were facing being captives of an alien race. Unlike Kes and Neelix, they didn't even have the advantage of having spent their lives knowing of the existence of these other races.

The strain of it all, clearly, was weighing very heavily on Carol. She sobbed, tears rolling heavily down her face, and bowed toward the Kazon Maje. Culluh looked more pleased than he had since he'd walked onto the bridge. The smile he wore, for a moment, was sincere. He stepped forward, reached a hand out and shook it at Carol when she didn't immediately take it. She hesitated, but finally took his hand when he shook it at her a third time. He helped her to her feet with a movement that was more delicate than most that he had employed previously.

"I take it that you'd like to beg for your life? For the lives of—your companions?" Culluh asked.

"Don't hurt her," Kathryn offered suddenly and sharply. "Culluh—they were only doing what I ordered them to do. They're all innocent. Let them go—it's me that ordered them to attack."

Kathryn's tone was not as pleasing to the Kazon as Carol's had been. Holding Carol by the wrist as though she might step away from him—her demeanor making it clear that she intended to do no such thing—he reached the other hand out and backhanded Kathryn a second time. She recoiled from the blow, but it didn't knock her down.

"Silence!" He barked at her. "Or you'll learn to beg in a way that's proper of a slave!" He turned back to look at Carol—to admire her.

"Please," she sobbed again. "Please don't do this. I'm begging you…please don't do this. I'm pregnant…I…I wish you wouldn't…please…"

The more she begged, the happier Culluh looked. The more satisfied. The more relaxed, even.

"Pregnant?" He asked. She nodded. He backed up to look at her, but seemed to accept that there were times when gestation wouldn't be too obvious to the naked eye. "There's really no need to kill everyone," he said, to himself as much as he said it to anyone else. "The Kazon-Relora and the Kazon-Ogla are in desperate need of more slaves after some recent losses, and our own numbers are low for our needs."

"Culluh…" Seska started.

"That's Maje Culluh," he corrected, quickly, to demand respect.

"Maje Culluh," she stammered, bouncing the baby in her arms that was beginning to grow restless with the situation, "they'll never make suitable slaves."

"I think they can learn," Culluh said. "They have potential. Those who are slower to learn can be traded and unloaded easily enough. If nothing else, we can always be rid of the most problematic. I want teams working constantly to get the ship up and running. Keep the other ships surrounding us in case we have any visitors. I'd like to have a look at the ship and its technology. To start surveying damage and making plans. Have quarters prepared for me—the captain's quarters should be the nicest."

He reached his hand out and touched Carol's face. He cupped it, almost affectionately. She continued to sob—snatches of her earlier upset coming through—but she wasn't actively crying too hysterically. She ducked her head gently when he touched her face.

"Infants are the best slaves for trade," Culluh said. "We get the best in exchange for them because they can be trained to be anything. They're worth a great deal to us."

Carol visibly stiffened at the suggestion.

"Please…" she begged again. "Don't. Do. This. Please!" She stressed each word with renewed sobs, and Culluh looked amused at how quickly he could bring her back to begging for his mercy. He smiled, again, and Chakotay found that a shiver crawled up his back at how thrilled the Kazon looked to have a woman groveling before him. Chakotay cast a glance at Daryl. He expected him to be upset. Maybe he expected another outburst from him. Instead, Daryl seemed somewhat relaxed. He maintained his gesture of surrender, with his hands up in the air, but they'd fallen slightly. His jaw was set, and his eyes were narrowed. He watched the scene in front of him, but that's all he was doing. He was watching—practically without blinking.

Chakotay didn't know what to do, or what might happen, but he took an odd sort of comfort from Daryl's apparent calm in an otherwise stressful situation.

"You'll do nicely," Culluh mused, still holding Carol's face. "And you'll be perfect for helping the others learn how to behave. And with so little training. I lost many of my personal slaves in a recent battle against the Kazon-Pommar. The damage to one of our ships cost us a lot of lives—particularly those of slaves. I'll keep this one for my personal slave."

"Maje Culluh," Seska stepped in to argue. Culluh's expression, alone, silenced her.

"I want this one taken to my quarters," Culluh said. "Keep a guard on her, but be careful with her. I don't want her damaged if she's not misbehaving. The child she carries could be as valuable as any four of these others as slaves."

"Captain Janeway's pregnant, too," Chakotay blurted.

He hadn't actually intended to say the words—at least he hadn't held the intention to speak them for a long time. They had practically bubbled out of him. He realized this was a way to keep Kathryn safe—at least safer than the rest of them. It was a way to, if nothing more, buy her a little more time to figure out what she might do to get herself and the baby out of this. Chakotay had a feeling that things might not go so well for himself or the others, but at least he could buy her some time.

More than that, at least he could imagine that things had gone well for her—wherever he ended up. That would help him find peace, even if he was only finding it in his final moments of being tortured to death at the hands of the Kazons.

There was a collective sound of surprise from those surrounding them at Chakotay's announcement.

"Captain Janeway?" Seska mused. "How did that happen?"

Everyone ignored Seska, but Culluh didn't ignore Chakotay. As soon as he passed Carol off to one of the other Kazon warriors, who held her tight by the wrist, Culluh pulled Kathryn up to her feet roughly.

"Is this true?" He asked. Kathryn looked over her shoulder at Chakotay. That was answer enough, apparently.

"I'm sorry, Kathryn," he said, truly meaning it. He was sorry—he was sorry for a great many things. He wasn't sorry, though, if this bought her anything—time, freedom, or better treatment.

"Chakotay?" Seska mused. "Looks like somebody's been busy."

Culluh smiled at Kathryn as he held onto her.

"You'll take a little more breaking than my other slave," he offered, "but perhaps she can teach you the way to behave. I wouldn't want any harm to come to you—at least not until we've gotten the rest of our goods from you. Take her to my quarters. I want a guard on each of them until we've had a chance to work with them."

"She is, too," Daryl said quickly and loudly. He moved his hands only out of the surrender position long enough to indicate B'Elanna. She looked at him, wide-eyed and started to stammer something out. "Sorry—sweetheart," he said, drawing out the affectionate title that must have tasted strange on his tongue. "It's for your own good. For—the good of the baby. I couldn't stand not knowin' you were doin' everything you could to…help take care of my kid."

"What has been happening on this ship since I've been gone?" Seska mused.

Still, Culluh took the bait. He gestured a head toward B'Elanna, and that was enough for another of his soldiers to drag her to her feet. Her mouth was partially open, and she looked surprised, but she didn't do anything to discredit what Daryl had said. She grimaced at Culluh, but she didn't fight him. There would have been little use to fight. She was quickly given her own guard, armed like the others, and Culluh gave the order that she was to be kept under close watch with Kathryn and Carol. Then Culluh turned to the rest of them.

"Is it safe to assume that there are no other gestating females, of your various species, on the ship?" Culluh asked.

"That's impossible for us to say. We're trying to become a multi-generational ship," Chakotay offered. "We're promoting procreation."

"And I'd say it's working," Seska mused. "Maje Culluh, I don't know if it's wise to keep so many personal slaves for yourself until you know how they'll behave."

"Are you questioning my decisions?" Culluh asked, anger showing up in his voice.

"No, Maje," Seska responded. "It's only that…"

"They'll be heavily guarded," Culluh responded. "I won't have you questioning my decisions. You can easily be made a slave yourself!"

"No, Maje," Seska accepted. "I didn't mean to question your—wise authority."

Culluh silently accepted her apology with a slight nod of his ridged head.

"Now—we have a few days before we're ready to make for our next location. Where can we store the rest of these potential trade goods until we're ready to find a use for them? We'll need somewhere that's easy to secured and large enough to fit everyone except my chosen slaves."

"The cargo bays," Seska offered. "They'll be easy to guard, and everyone should fit—even if it is a little crowded."

Culluh looked pleased with the suggestion.

"Get them on their feet," he commanded. "Seska will show you where to put them. As for my personal slaves, I don't want them left alone—not even for a minute. Take them to prepare my quarters and a meal for me."

Chakotay got to his feet with the others. He accepted, along with the others, that they would be herded, like cattle, to the cargo bays. There was nothing they could do right now. To try to fight back would be only to die—and to cause other deaths in the process. Everyone seemed to understand that truth. Now wasn't the time to fight.

Chakotay was oddly hopeful, though, that all wasn't lost.


	48. Chapter 48

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! There are a few parts to this little story arc. Let me know what you think! **

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B'Elanna was aware of a number of things around her.

She was aware that the Kazon guards leading them didn't want them to speak without permission. She was aware, too, that the Kazon guards believed in punishment for anyone breaking any of the rules—even if they'd never actually been informed of the rules.

Just as Culluh's people had started to lead the group off the bridge, with B'Elanna, Carol, and Kathryn watching on and waiting their turn, Daryl had called out a final request to speak to his "love." Culluh apparently found the idea of torturing all of them—physically, mentally, and emotionally—to be very pleasing. He clearly found them amusing. He'd allowed Daryl's request.

Of course, because he believed B'Elanna to be Daryl's mate, he'd had her dragged over to the man as one guard separated him from the rest of the group.

They were being watched. They were being listened to. Daryl's eyes, darting around, told B'Elanna that he was fully aware of that. He was reading the room as much as anything else.

"You know the story of the Trojan horse?" Daryl asked. "That old Earth story?"

B'Elanna's stomach had done something of an excited flip and she'd allowed herself one quick glance in Tom's direction before she looked back at Daryl. Tom had an obsession with all things Earth and all things old or ancient. Whenever they'd enjoyed time alone together, he'd often found the opportunity to sneak in a little story here or there for B'Elanna's entertainment and to stretch the evening just a half an hour or so longer.

As luck would have it, the story of the Trojan horse had been one that Tom had told B'Elanna following an event with an alien species with which they'd had a failed trading experience.

"I remember it," B'Elanna had assured him. She did remember it. The full details of the story, at the moment, hadn't come directly to her memory, but she knew that she remembered it. She only needed a moment to think, and she'd recall it all.

Daryl nodded at her.

"Good," he said. "Just remember—the key to it? Is what's on the inside." As an act of clarification, perhaps, wrapped up in a show of affection, Daryl pressed his hand to her stomach as though she were actually carrying a baby like he'd told Culluh she was doing. She'd resisted the urge to push him away, realizing that wouldn't do well in this situation—and also realizing that he was clearly telling her something. Something, hopefully, she'd eventually understand. She simply had to listen and figure it out. "Carry my love with you," he reminded her. "And remember—the most important thing? The key to it? It's there."

B'Elanna had accepted his message and bid him farewell, putting on a bit of a show, herself, of reaching toward him even as her guard led her back out of the way to wait for the group to pass.

The Kazon soldiers that had come into the room after the group was gone—fresh from their ships—had come bearing something that was meant for training the slaves. It took them all less than five minutes to realize they were some kind of electrified rods. They'd also brought bindings.

All of them had their hands bound behind their backs, and they'd been led to Kathryn and Chakotay's quarters—the quarters that would now belong to Culluh. They'd learned that their guards didn't want them to speak out of turn when they'd told them to prepare Culluh a meal fit for the Maje, and Kathryn had pointed out that, until they restored more than just the emergency power, the replicators weren't going to function. One of the guards had laid the rod down, roughly, against her back, and there had been no mistaking the sizzling sound or smell of burnt cloth and flesh that had followed.

Carol and B'Elanna had loudly protested Kathryn's treatment, but she'd silenced them, herself, when the guards had threatened both of them with the rods.

Despite the fact that they hadn't appreciated her giving them the information about the power supply, one of the guards had left to apparently move power restoration to the head of their list of things to accomplish. While they waited, the other two guards put B'Elanna, Carol, and Kathryn in the bedroom so that they could be sure that they were safe from running away, but they also weren't under foot.

As soon as they were no unshackled and left to their own devices in the room, Carol immediately forced Kathryn to bare her back to her so that she could see the burn that was left behind by the rod.

"We need a dermal regenerator," B'Elanna said, keeping her voice low.

"And you might earn one," Carol said, slipping into the bathroom and coming back out again with a towel that she'd soaked in cold water. "But you're not going to earn any privileges if you don't keep your head down. This is going to sting, at first, but it'll feel better in a minute." If it stung, B'Elanna couldn't tell. Kathryn had been stoic about the burn in the first place. She was stoic about it now. "The bad news is that the burn is deep," Carol said. "The good news is that it's cauterized everything, so at least there's no bleeding wound to deal with."

"That's great news," B'Elanna said. She didn't miss Carol's arched eyebrow, and she responded in kind. "Look, I'm sorry, but…is that just the plan? We just—learn to be good little slaves?"

"For now, that's exactly what we do," Carol said, keeping her voice at barely more than a breathy whisper. "We learn what they expect of us. Of good, personal slaves. And we be the best slaves that we can be. We already know that they like groveling. They like weakness."

"That's fine for someone like you," B'Elanna said.

"B'Elanna," Kathryn scolded, barely putting sound to B'Elanna's name.

"I'm sorry," B'Elanna said. "I didn't—I didn't mean that."

"You did," Carol said. "And that's OK. Actually—it's a good thing. Because that's what we need everyone to believe. About all of us."

"You have to forgive B'Elanna," Kathryn offered.

"There's nothing to forgive," Carol said sincerely. "Does it feel better? Without anything—there isn't much I can do."

"It's fine," Kathryn assured her. "Thank you."

"Carol," B'Elanna said, catching the woman's attention again. "I didn't mean that. Really. It's just—the way I was raised."

"I know," Carol said with a soft smile. "You're a Klingon. Daryl's told me all about Klingons."

"About Daryl," B'Elanna said, her stomach clenching. She got up and glanced through the bedroom doorway. Their Kazon guards were standing and talking in the living area of the quarters. They were unconcerned for the moment, about their wards. There wasn't much that they could do in the bedroom, and the Kazon guards knew that. Still, at least it gave them the quiet opportunity to speak freely to one another. "Look—I don't want you to think that there's anything between Daryl and I because—there's not. I promise. There's nothing between us."

Carol smiled to herself.

"Then I'm sorry to hear that," Carol said. "Because—I know that, at least to Daryl, there's a really good friendship there. Something he values. And I wouldn't call that nothing."

B'Elanna was struck by the words.

"That's not what I meant," she said. "I do consider Daryl a friend, of course." She stopped. As soon as she said it, she heard it. Her ears really heard her own words. "A very good friend," she admitted. "And I haven't had a lot of those in life."

"Then you know that they're worth a great deal," Carol offered.

"I meant—there's nothing romantic between us," B'Elanna said, whispering to Carol.

"I know that," Carol said. "You care about Tom. And Tom cares about you." B'Elanna considered stopping her. She considered denying it. But there was no need to deny the truth and this didn't even feel like the right time or place to do so. There was far too much at play here for such a thing to matter. Besides—she did care for Tom, and she was beginning to think that he was fond of her, in his own way. B'Elanna didn't say anything, she simply let Carol continue and say what she needed to say. "And Daryl cares about you, but…I'm not insecure enough to think that Daryl can't have friends. You say you haven't had a lot of very good friends. You're not the only one. Daryl and I…neither one of us…have had a lot of good friends. Not ones that we got to keep, at least."

"That's all the more reason that we can't just hide out and be good slaves," B'Elanna said.

"Carol's right," Kathryn said. B'Elanna didn't have to say anything to her. Kathryn was either able to anticipate what B'Elanna was thinking, or else she was able to simply read B'Elanna's facial expression. She nodded her head and gave B'Elanna a very understanding expression. "It's frustrating, and it feels like doing nothing, but even Klingons know the strategy of studying your enemy. Learning their weak points. Exploiting those weak points."

"But our preference is to simply tear the enemy apart," B'Elanna said. "Destroy them. It's a lot faster that way."

"You only get one chance to do that," Kathryn said. "Move too quickly and you could blow that chance before you were in the right position to take full advantage. Besides—there's still a chance that we can handle this diplomatically. There's still a chance that we can get out of this without losing too many lives—our own or the Kazons'." Kathryn smiled at Carol. She patted Carol's shoulder. "I'm sure that Carol would like to see us get out of this with as few lives lost as possible."

Carol gave Kathryn a somewhat tight-lipped smile and tipped her head slightly before she nodded and patted Kathryn's leg where she sat beside her—all of them having gathered on the bed when there wasn't anywhere else for them to go in the room.

B'Elanna couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something that made her feel like Carol's smile wasn't sincere at all—and she wasn't sure exactly what that meant.

She let it go for the moment, though, and she sighed.

"I guess if we're just waiting, I might as well tell you congratulations," B'Elanna said to Carol. "I told Daryl, but…I never got the chance to tell you like I wanted. Of course, it sounds out of place, now."

Carol smiled to herself.

"It sounds wonderful to me," she said. "No matter when it's said, I'm happy to hear it. I didn't know how much I truly wanted this until…and now I couldn't be happier than I am to know that Daryl and I are going to have this baby together."

B'Elanna laughed to herself.

"So, was that—all an act? The crying and the…wailing and everything?"

Carol shook her head.

"No," she said. "And—yes. I guess it was real, and it wasn't."

"Are you always this much of an enigma?" B'Elanna asked, amused at Carol's reply.

"I think we're all more complicated than meets the eye," Carol offered. "Aren't you?" B'Elanna didn't answer her. She didn't feel like she had to answer her. Carol spoke again, anyway, keeping the silence from being awkward. "I'm going to tell you; in case you don't know. Men like Culluh are all the same. I don't think that species, or lightyears, or whatever matters. He wants to feel powerful. In control. Especially with women. And he wants to be the one to grant mercy or give punishment. There's nothing a man like that appreciates more than feeling powerful and in control of someone, especially if she's a woman."

B'Elanna sighed and chewed on their situation.

"We'll figure something out," B'Elanna said. "It was fast thinking, though, of Chakotay and Daryl to take advantage of the situation and get us in here so you weren't alone." She laughed to herself. "I guess—we'll be fine as long as Culluh doesn't get it in his head to do any sort of medical scan of his personal slaves. If he did, then at least the two of us will have some explaining to do." B'Elanna laughed to herself, amused by the thought of Culluh's reaction when he found out he'd been had—at least to some degree—and two of his prized slaves that he thought would produce more valuable slaves turned out to be just women with empty wombs.

Her laughter stopped, though, and her joviality was replaced by a sharp clenching in her gut when she looked at Kathryn's face.

"Captain," B'Elanna said. Kathryn didn't respond. Her face responded for her and made her words unnecessary. "It wasn't part of the act, was it?"

Kathryn simply shook her head and sighed. B'Elanna didn't try to place all the many reasons that she suddenly wore such a heavy expression.

"No," she said. "I'm afraid…it wasn't."

B'Elanna didn't know if her face conveyed the range of emotions she felt. Before she could gather her thoughts, though, or find any words to say to Kathryn, they all heard the sound of the doors hissing open. They heard the guards address Culluh, and they heard Culluh respond to the guards.

Kathryn, Carol, and B'Elanna all scrambled to their feet just in time to see Culluh arrive at the bedroom door with Seska and the baby just behind him.

Culluh walked in and went directly to Carol. He caught her face in his hand and turned it from side to side. B'Elanna couldn't help noticing that any earlier lightness was gone from Carol's countenance. She looked somewhat sullen again. Culluh looked pleased just to be touching her.

"They didn't harm you, did they?" Culluh asked.

"No," Carol said. "Please—don't…" He smiled at her. He shushed her like someone shushing a child instead of a full-grown woman.

"You're going to do perfectly," he commented. He gestured toward B'Elanna as one of the guards walked in. "Cebrall—take her to engineering. See if she can help them speed up the process. Don't hurt her too badly. Only just enough for her to cooperate. Seska—I know how fond you are of Janeway. She's yours to have. A gift." He smiled at Kathryn, clearly pleased to humiliate her—or at least to try to do so. "She's going to love being your personal slave. Verri will help you train her. You can do what you want with her. I don't care. Not as long as the child she carries stays intact until it's time to be born. I want the profit it'll bring." He turned his attention back to Carol, whose face he still held in his hands. When he looked at her again, Carol ducked her head as much as she could and turned her eyes away from him. He liked that, and he laughed to himself.

"When do you want this one back?" the guard called Cebrall asked.

"As soon as the power's back online," Culluh said. "I'd rather our own engineers work out the rest of the problems, just in case she's not as cooperative as I'd like for her to be. The same rules apply to your treatment of her. Keep the child intact, but that's my only concern. The child will be worth a great deal." He let go of Carol's face and put his hand on her shoulder in a move that seemed partially affectionate and partially controlling. "This one stays with me."


	49. Chapter 49

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**As I said, there are several chapters to this arc because there are things that are taking place all over the ship that I want to explore. **

**I hope that you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **

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The replicators were up and running first, though the fact that the lights wouldn't brighten beyond their current level of dimness told Carol that it was likely that they were sending the power, in some way, directly to the replicators. A Kazon soldier came to share the news with Culluh that he could now use the replicators, and then the soldier disappeared to go about his work again.

They didn't have any communications from what Carol could tell. Either that, or they didn't know how to use them. That was good, and she hoped that B'Elanna failed to tell them how to get communication up and running throughout the ship.

Carol replicated the fresh linens, as requested by Culluh, and she made the bed. She fluffed his pillows and, for the added pleasure it would bring him, took a knee when she told him, in the living room, that his bed was ready for him, and that she hoped it pleased him.

Carol waited for some punishment from Culluh. She braced herself, at every step, for a slap across the face or a hard smack with electrical rod that he kept in case he needed it—though his lack of belief that he would need the rod was illustrated by the fact that he kept it leaning against the wall in the living area and, so far, he hadn't moved it once from its location. Carol waited to see if he would be the kind of man that would punish her, ahead of time, for mistakes she hadn't made yet—just so she would know that they wouldn't be tolerated if they came to pass. A few burns or slaps would hardly phase Carol at this point. She'd been through much worse. She simply wanted to know exactly what she was dealing with.

But Culluh seemed to at least be honest about what he'd told her so far—and, perhaps, Kazons were simply honest about such things. He hadn't punished her and it appeared that he didn't intend to punish her—not unless she disobeyed him. He helped her to her feet, and asked her to follow him and provide all that he needed to settle into his new quarters.

In the bedroom, he reclined on the bed like a man who had just been crowned king and was unaccustomed to such luxury. He ordered water to drink—a great deal of water—and a meal of food which Carol had never heard of before. She hoped the replicator would comply, and she knew that it would as long as Neelix had heard of the food, because he had programmed a great many dishes into the ship's replicator system that only he Kes seemed to find familiar.

Carol was relieved when the replicator produced the plate that Culluh required. She was pleased to see it was a healthy portion, as well, and appeared like the kind of food that weighed heavy in the stomach. She brought him the food, bowed as she served it to him, and returned a moment later with a pitcher of water and a glass. She filled the glass for him with another bow before she returned to the replicator with her next request—a surprise for her Maje.

The nightcap that she replicated for him was her own choice. Since he didn't seem familiar with the word whiskey, Carol was glad that she'd poured a decent sized glass of it—she'd ordered a bottle and glass—to serve him. It was far more than anyone even accustomed to drinking heavily should attempt to finish. Carol served it to him with another bow and the explanation that, on her planet, it was customary for royalty to drink a glass following each meal to help with digestion and sleep. Heavy consumption of the liquid, she told him, was the mark of good taste and nobility.

Carol tolerated when he instructed her to sit on the side of the bed beside him while he ate. She ducked her head and only let her eyes meet his occasionally. Men like Culluh liked that. They liked when you wouldn't meet their eyes because they read it as fear. Submission.

Carol tolerated it, too, when he reached his dirty hand out—greasy from whatever he was eating, the smell of which made Carol's stomach threaten to turn—to hold her chin and direct her toward him when he wanted to talk to her. She tried to at least pretend to listen to him, but it wasn't long before she knew that she was going to be sick.

Begging permission to be sick would probably get her a lesser punishment than emptying her stomach of whatever contents there were—because she couldn't recall eating or drinking lately—onto the bed.

"Please—I'm going to…be sick," Carol said. "The baby," she managed, before she covered her mouth.

Culluh didn't look angry. He looked amused and waved at Carol to go. She ran to the bathroom, leaving the door open as he commanded that she do. In the bathroom, she emptied her stomach of what there was—mostly what she would call bile—and she took the opportunity to swallow down some fresh air that wasn't quite poisoned with the stink of Kazon and Kazon cuisine. At the sink, she washed her mouth out and then gulped down a few handfuls of the water to serve as breakfast, or lunch, or whatever meal might be appropriate at whatever hour it happened to be.

"Enjoy the water," Culluh called happily from the bedroom. "Now that we have Voyager's technology, we'll have all the water we want. And we'll be able to control the dry colonies like the mining colony in the Rikka system or the Hanon system where we'll probably sell that bastard you're carrying."

Carol's stomach twisted again and she swallowed, holding onto the bathroom sink, and reminded herself that there was nothing in her stomach except the water she'd just drank. She didn't need to be sick again.

But she wanted to be sick. Just hearing Culluh call her baby a bastard made her chest ache. The suggestion that—if they somehow failed to escape this—he would take her baby and sell it to some strange aliens made her lungs constrict. He would do the same to Kathryn. Kathryn didn't know, yet, the pain of losing a child. Her introduction to that soul-sucking pain would be them ripping away her infant to treat as though it were nothing more than some product to be traded.

They would trade people. Beat them. Hurt them. Kill them. They would subject them to lives of torture and mistreatment. People she cared about. People she loved.

They would sell Daryl, as an able-bodied man, to mine some ore she'd never heard of, and probably to die in some desolate location from exposure, if they didn't beat him to death first. And then they would take her baby from her, to meet the same fate. Carol dropped a hand to her stomach. She wished she could feel the little thing. She knew it was there, but she wished she knew even more assuredly than she simply knew. The wave of nausea in response to her suddenly overwhelming feelings almost made her smile. It made her chest ache more. The expression of distaste for the situation, the smells, and the chemicals caused by her emotions was the only way the little one could make itself known and express an opinion.

"No," she said. "You can't have it."

The words escaped her really before she realized that she'd said them. Culluh quickly called attention to them.

"What did you say?" He asked. There was a hint of warning in his tone. Carol detected it immediately. Ed, her first husband, had taught her to detect that kind of tonal warning. He'd also taught her that those kinds of questions weren't genuine. Culluh had heard her. He was feeling generous and forgiving—at least as he would see it—and he was giving her an opportunity to correct her misstep before she was punished.

Carol's throat ached and her head throbbed. She felt the constriction in her lungs. She felt the knotting in her stomach that she could force herself to forget. The tears burned at her eyes, and she didn't try to hold them back. She welcomed them. She dampened a fresh rag with sink water.

She turned and walked back toward the bed. She ignored the stench of Kazon and the disgusting food that he was polishing off. She took his hands and washed them reverently with the clean rag before removing the tray and placing it on the dresser, out of the way. She offered him the glass of whiskey without a word. She let the tears run hot and free down her cheeks. She let them drip off her jaw and fall around her.

He smiled at her pain. He was pleased by it. She reminded herself—ignoring the gnawing discomfort in her gut—that he was pleased by her pain. He would be pleased by other's pain. He would be happy to hear them suffering and dying. He would feed off that anguish. She needed to remember what kind of a person—creature, whatever she was supposed to call him—that he really was. She had to remember what kind of creatures they all were.

"Please," Carol said. "You can't take it. Please. My baby—you can't…you can't take it. I can't…you can't do that."

She closed her eyes a moment. The smile on Culluh's face was burned into her brain now. She could see it even with her eyes closed. She knew that he had no respect for her. He had no respect for any of them. He had no respect for their feelings or their lives, and his followers wouldn't either.

He touched Carol's face again. He dampened his fingertips with her tears.

"Please," she begged again. He laughed. The sound burned through her body like a hot bolt of lightning.

"I can see this is very important to you," Culluh said, not hiding his amusement. "However—it wouldn't do for slave women to have children to keep."

"It would mean—more slaves for you," Carol offered.

"If slave women keep their offspring," Culluh said, "they become too attached to them. Too wild when they're around them. They do better when you separate them as soon as possible."

"The babies will die," Carol said.

"Let the slaves nurse acquired infants," Culluh said. "Only the weak ones refuse to nurse and die. Nobody wants weak slaves. They're more trouble than they're worth. It's better to be rid of them sooner rather than later, or they're a drain on resources."

"Please," Carol said again. "Don't do this. You don't—you don't have to do this. None of it. You don't have to—hurt anyone. You can let us all go…"

"And do what with you?" Culluh asked, holding tightly enough to Carol's face, now, that she was sure he would leave bruises. There was warning in the pressure behind his fingertips. Ed had taught her that warning, too, before many of the beatings that had followed when she still failed to calm whatever had angered him. "This ship is mine, now. It belongs to the Kazon-Nistrim. It will make us some of the greatest warriors across all the sects."

"Then take us to a planet," Carol said, "where we can live. Give us the chance to survive. You can stop this. You don't have to do this."

"Your captain wouldn't share her technology with us," Culluh said. "Your people contribute nothing to our people. To anybody. As slaves, you'll contribute in a very meaningful way. You should feel honored that we're allowing you the opportunity to do something, instead of simply killing you all immediately. You, of all of them, should be honored that I'm allowing you to serve me—your Maje."

Carol was no stranger to the message that she should be thankful for being allowed to exist. She should be thankful for any kindness shown to her. She should understand that she was nothing more than a burden, really.

She nodded her head.

"Yes, Maje," she agreed, not trying to slow her tears or to hide the grief that was seizing up every muscle in her body. He wanted her tears. He wanted her pain. She wanted him to have them. She offered him the glass of whiskey; she ducked her head. He took it and she accepted the caress of her cheek.

"You'll be better off without the bastard anyway," Culluh mused. "It would only get in the way of your work. Your devotion to the bastard would hinder your absolute devotion to your Maje."

Carol nodded. She slipped down off the side of the bed and took the fully submissive stance of kneeling beside the bed—and beside the man who was enjoying himself as some kind of kingly Maje. He thought nothing of her submissive position, other than the pleasure which seeing it brought him, because he was now accustomed to the fact that she naturally assumed a fully subservient position when possible. He drank the whiskey, shuddering at its taste. Convinced that it was the beverage of royalty and that Carol might identify him as less-than if he didn't drink it, he gulped a few mouthfuls of it to try to make it go faster.

Carol remained kneeling beside him. She slipped her hand down, as slowly as possible, and felt the space in the side of her right boot. She felt the hard handle that she was searching for. They had searched them all for phasers—someone's phaser, even now, hung on Culluh's belt. They had never suspected there might be a trench knife in Carol's boot.

It brought Carol comfort to know it was there. It helped soothe over the feeling—like razor blades slashing at her heart—that she felt when she thought of Culluh's plan to torture them all like animals and kill them if they didn't stay down—his plan to take the child that she would not give to him, no matter what.

He caressed her face lazily with his fingertips like he was petting a beloved lapdog. His touch was clumsy. There was too much whiskey there for him to metabolize well, especially not at the rate he was drinking it. It made him feel light and happy, though, and his happiness was increased exponentially by witnessing Carol quietly kneeling beside him, waiting to fulfill his every whim. She watched his eyelids. She saw them start to droop.

She slowly extracted the knife from her boot and its sheathe, and she slipped her fingers through the holes in the handle—no amount of blood would make it slippery enough to fall from her grasp. She flexed the muscles in her legs, prepared to use them as quickly as was necessary.

The tears naturally renewed themselves without effort from her.

"Do you still weep for the bastard?" Culluh asked, his voice slurring some.

"No," Carol said.

"What for, then?" He asked. "Some mate?"

"For myself," Carol offered. He patted her, as affectionately as she supposed a Kazon might ever pat their new, favorite slave—especially when they were clearly drunk.

"If you know your place, you'll be safe," Culluh assured her. He didn't understand that she wept, as she had what felt like a million times before, for what she knew needed to be done and, therefore, what she must do. She watched as his eyelids sagged closed for a split second before he pulled them open again. He was probably seeing double. The glass leaned to the side and some of the contents spilled out. He straightened it. He'd drank more than Carol imagined he would have been able to drink and remain conscious. She was glad she hadn't underestimated him the way that he'd clearly underestimated her. She flexed her fingers around the knife handle. Slowly, very slowly, it became entirely from her boot and sheathe. It rested beside her leg, waiting for her next move.

"Then," she said, letting her voice shake with the tears that came easily enough, "I'm sorry."

"You're—you are—you're going to be a very good slave. Why would—why should you be sorry?"

"Because," Carol said, shifting her position carefully enough that Culluh wouldn't notice how quickly she could rise, "I guess I weep—for you."


	50. Chapter 50

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Chakotay followed Daryl over to the place he chose near the wall and sat with him. The spot, it seemed, was Daryl's best effort to be out of the way of everyone else. With the entire crew crammed into one cargo bay—all the supplies having been moved out to avoid having them get any ideas about using any of it to try to escape—there wasn't much room to be away from anyone.

"Are you coming up with a plan or…?" Chakotay asked.

Daryl laughed to himself. From his pocket, he fished out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. The Kazons had searched them all. They'd stripped them of phasers and communicators, but they hadn't really taken anything else. Daryl's items, after all, were somewhat antiquated, even for those who had come from Earth.

"Got the only plan I'ma have for a while," Daryl said, taking a draw from the cigarette he lit for himself and returning his pack and lighter to his pocket.

"And what's that?" Chakotay asked.

"As many Kazons as they brought onto this ship," Daryl mused, "I figure we still outnumber them that's onboard—even if it's just by a couple. However many Kazons they got out there, they still gotta have crews on them ships that was surroundin' us. Of the Kazons they got on here, not all of 'em are their cream of the crop military Kazons. They got people right now that's tryin' to rewire this ship to get it moving."

"Right," Chakotay agreed. "We're somewhat in over our heads."

"We're way fuckin' in over our heads," Daryl mused.

"Do we organize to try to overpower them?" Chakotay asked.

"There's one door outta here," Daryl said. "That one. The guards are armed with rifles and probably a half a dozen of our little phaser things each. The only damn way we get outta here is if we pry the door open, right?"

"That's the way it looks right now," Chakotay confirmed.

"We pry that door open an' they gonna pepper the hell outta this space with bullets or lazers or whatever the hell you call the beams that shoot out the phasers." Chakotay didn't offer Daryl any information about the phasers. He understood that wasn't the point of what Daryl was saying, and it didn't matter anyway. "They'll wipe a shit ton of us out 'fore we even get the chance to get out there an' try to overpower them."

"You're right," Chakotay said. He leaned his head back against the wall and searched his own mind for some idea about what they might do to escape. "If we wait until we get where we're going, they're going to open the doors for us. They'll bring us out of here."

"We can spread out more if we don't gotta funnel through the door. Not so much shootin' fish in a barrel then," Daryl said. His tone indicated he agreed with Chakotay. Even though he was unfamiliar with the saying, Chakotay could guess the meaning behind it.

"They'll still be armed, and we still won't be," Chakotay said.

"We wait," Daryl said.

"For what?" Chakotay asked.

Daryl laughed to himself like there was something funny about all of this. He hummed to himself.

"We'll know when it happens," he said. "You ain't forgot that—well, we left Carol, Kathryn, and B'Elanna out there."

"Of course, I haven't forgotten," Chakotay said. "I'm half-sick worrying about what's happening to them. Especially now that we've seen how much the Kazons enjoy torturing their would-be slaves. I believe Kathryn's going to get away. They all are. Somehow. Whether it's when we get wherever we're going or…it's just something I have to believe. You know?"

"Oh, I know all about just—havin' to believe shit," Daryl mused. "There's a lot I just believe, too."

"One of the worst things," Chakotay said, "is that I'm never going to know if I have a son or a daughter."

"You got a son with that woman," Daryl offered.

Chakotay's stomach turned.

"It's not the same thing," Chakotay said.

"I know it's not," Daryl offered. "But the kid ain't asked for what his mama done, and he ain't asked to be a bastard."

"He belongs to Culluh, now," Chakotay said. "And Culluh's going to make sure that I never see my child—my…child with Kathryn."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Shit—hell. Maybe we don't throw in the towel just fuckin' yet, all right?" Daryl mused. "Because—I ain't gonna give up on ever seein' my kid. To hell with that thought."

"You don't really seem upset about this," Chakotay said. "I thought—as distraught as Carol was? I thought you'd be more upset."

"Let's just say that—there's a lot you don't know about Carol," Daryl offered.

"What is there to know?" Chakotay asked.

"I ain't gonna jinx her," Daryl offered. "Not now."

"But you're not worried?" Chakotay asked.

"Not yet, I'm not," Daryl mused. "And I don't believe for a fuckin' second that we ain't getting outta this damn cargo bay and out of whatever damn mess we're in with these knock-off Klingons. I'ma see my kid. And you gonna see yours."

"If that's the case, then we need to start figuring out some kind of plan," Chakotay said. "Not just—sit around waiting for a plan to fall into our laps."

"We'll know what our plan is," Daryl said. "It'll come to us. For now—I think the most important thing we can do is not rush into anything. Not lose numbers or bodies by just throwin' people at these Kazons. It's better we don't do shit until we actually know what the hell the plan is. Until we see our window of opportunity."

"I wish I had the same kind of faith you seem to have right now," Chakotay mused, finding that he felt oddly lighter simply seeing that Daryl was sincerely unbothered, especially given the high stress level of their current situation.

"Borrow some of mine," Daryl offered. "What kinda—fire extinguishers you got on this ship?"

Chakotay furrowed his brow at Daryl, but he'd come to expect that the man was going to ask him strange questions. He was infinitely curious about life three-hundred years in the future from when he'd been born.

"There are fire extinguishers built into each room of the ship," Chakotay said. "There are portable ones, located in most rooms, in case something takes those offline. Then there's also a ship-wide system in the case of a larger issue. Why?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Just curious," he offered. "No reason."

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They were on something of a Seska-led tour of Voyager where the Cardassian spy surveyed what she considered her new kingdom as it was slowly being occupied by Kazon soldiers. While they toured, the Kazon soldier that Seska called Verri was happy to do the dirty work of helping to train Kathryn. At least, that's what they were calling it. The third time he'd laid the electrical rod against her back, Kathryn hadn't been able to swallow down every sound that wanted to escape her. She didn't want Seska to have the satisfaction of knowing she could cause Kathryn any pain, but the burns were impossible to ignore entirely, especially as they compounded and covered more of the area of her back.

Kathryn wasn't even being punished for any act against anyone. She was being punished for things like not walking quite as straight as Verri seemed to think she should. She accepted, though, that there was little she could do at the moment except try to avoid the wrath of the Kazon or Seska.

Like Carol, she believed that they would get out of this, but the key to getting out of it was really reading the Kazons well and discovering their weak points. It was better to bide their time, for just a little while, than to try something rash that would end up getting them all killed.

From the restoration of a power—which Kathryn could practically hear purring through the walls of Voyager after the almost absolute silence that had surrounded them for a while—Kathryn could tell that B'Elanna was getting things back online. She was doing what Kathryn had asked her to do. She was playing along. She was doing what they required of her. She was being a good slave.

They needed the ship online as much as the Kazons needed the ship online. Whatever finally ended up happening, they would need to escape—and they would need the ship to be functioning well in order to do that. At the very least, B'Elanna needed the warp drive running and enough of the ship's power returned to make it fully operational. A few photon torpedoes wouldn't hurt anything, but they couldn't be too picky. Still, with the Kazons not fighting against them, and with Culluh providing B'Elanna with everything she needed, as long as she appeared to be a good servant, she was likely to make short work of the most basic repairs—the rest could wait until they had their freedom again.

Kathryn walked with Seska into sickbay as she'd been commanded to do, fully aware that Verri was behind her with the electric rod poised to sear more of her flesh if he perceived even the slightest misstep on her part.

"Computer," Seska commanded, stepping into the now-fully-lit sickbay. It was more evidence that B'Elanna was already working a great deal of her engineering magic elsewhere in the ship. "Activate the EMH."

"Please state the nature of your medical emergency," the doctor said, immediately appearing. "What happened? Seska? When did you get here? Captain?"

The EMH would have been deactivated, voluntarily or involuntarily, during the battle with the Kazons. The computer wouldn't have been able to sustain him when there was so much power loss throughout the ship, and it would have been very unlikely that he would have had the time or the thought to attach and activate his mobile emitter.

"A lot's happened, Doctor," Kathryn said.

"Are you all right, Captain?" The doctor asked.

Kathryn offered him the best smile she could, and she nodded her head. She had no idea what she looked like. Judging from the EMH's expression, though, it wasn't good.

"Oh, enough with the reunions," Seska said with some obvious exasperation. "She's not your patient or your concern. You belong to the Kazon-Nistrim now."

"Captain?" The EMH asked, looking at Kathryn with the obviously desperate desire that she tell him that Seska was lying.

"I'm sorry," was all that Kathryn could say. She truly was sorry. She was sorry about the whole situation. The best that she could do was to try to solve it, but she knew that there was no solving it until the moment was right.

"Now," Seska said, ignoring everything around her, "the Kazons medical practices are somewhat antiquated in comparison to those on Voyager. Of course, that will change once your program is copied and integrated into all Kazon ships. For now, I want you to have a look at my son." Seska placed the infant on a biobed and the doctor reluctantly walked over. It was clear that he was experiencing a state of absolute disbelief.

"Your son," he mused.

"Yes," Seska said. "And Commander Chakotay's son."

Kathryn didn't miss that Seska cut her eyes in Kathryn's direction to try to drive the dagger deeper and twist it, if it all possible.

"Commander Chakotay's son?" The doctor asked.

"Doctor—if your program is malfunctioning," Seska offered, suddenly irritated, "then we can have it taken offline entirely."

"No," the doctor said quickly. "No. It's not malfunctioning."

"Then, please, Doctor, have a look at my son," Seska said, nearly growling out the words.

The doctor accepted the job that had been assigned to him, and he started to work examining Seska with a tricorder, quickly—which she allowed—before he moved on to the infant.

Seska continued to speak, mostly coming up with ways and reasons to repeat that the baby was the biological offspring of Chakotay. Kathryn knew it was mostly for Seska's entertainment, and it was mostly meant to hurt her. It did hurt Kathryn, but not quite as deeply as Seska hoped it would. Kathryn hurt more for the betrayal and the violation that she knew Chakotay felt, than she hurt for any relationship that had ever existed between the man she loved and the Cardassian spy that betrayed them all.

Verri was disinterested in Kathryn for the time being, since Kathryn stood still other than the fact that she let her eyes and her mind wander.

Kazon soldiers were around every corner in the corridors. She didn't know how many of his Kazon-Nistrim soldiers Culluh had brought aboard, but he'd certainly brought a decent amount to patrol the ship while their comrades worked on restoring Voyager to all her glory.

If they were able, in any way, to gain their freedom from their Kazon—and Kazon affiliated—guardians, there would be no way to get to the cargo bay, without being caught, using the corridors. In addition, the Jefferies tubes would be inaccessible because there would, without a doubt, be Kazon soldiers near most of their nearby access points.

But there were access points in sickbay to the ventilation systems, and those ran to nearly the same places as the Jefferies tubes. There were no Kazon soldiers posted in sickbay. If there was nobody there, there was no need for guards—and Seska was gone from Voyager before B'Elanna had acquired the technology for the EMH's mobile emitter, so she wouldn't even expect that the hologram could move outside of sickbay.

The EMH would have to stay put, and hopefully he would know that, because there was no way for Kathryn to communicate that to him. Even though he was able to move freely around the ship with the help of his mobile emitter, he was still intimately linked to the ship's computer system. If he were to move around, the Kazons that were monitoring any computer activity on the ship would, without a doubt, be notified of his actions.

Still, sickbay offered the clearest and most clandestine access points they might find to any of the ship's systems.

Kathryn's attention was drawn back to the current moment when she heard Seska's voice change tone and volume to reflect her displeasure at something.

"What do you mean?" She practically howled.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said, his expression not at all matching the words. Despite his best efforts to appear expressionless, there was a hint of pleasure playing at his features. "There's no way this child is the offspring of Commander Chakotay. It's the first Cardassian-Kazon hybrid in the system, but the child absolutely has Kazon DNA, and he absolutely has no human DNA at all. Beyond that, Commander Chakotay's DNA is in the system and, I'm sorry, but there isn't a match." The doctor gave Seska the broadest smile he could. "But congratulations are in order because he's certainly the healthiest Cardassian-Kazon hybrid that I've ever seen."

Kathryn turned her face, quickly, to hide her smile when the doctor glanced in her direction, clearly pleased with his discovery. Chakotay, too, would be pleased with the news, but it was evident that Seska wasn't taking it so well.

She snatched up her child—much more roughly than Kathryn liked to think she'd handle her own infant, if she ever got a chance to meet it—and spoke immediately to Verri.

"Let's go," she said. "There's nothing else to see here. Computer—deactivate EMH."

Without the opportunity to say another word, or to react with more than a shocked expression, the doctor vanished as quickly as he'd appeared in sickbay. Kathryn quietly followed after Seska, content to continue her small tour of Voyager under its Kazon occupation, avoiding the wrath of Verri, and trying to figure out just exactly how they were going to save the ship and her entire crew.


	51. Chapter 51

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I think some people might have missed the last chapter, so please make sure that you read that one, if you missed it, before you read this one! **

**I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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B'Elanna had done what it was insinuated that she should do. She'd been the best slave that the Kazons could ask for, and she'd done everything that Cebrall, her keeper, had suggested she should.

At least, she'd done everything so that it appeared to her captors that she was doing everything she was asked to do.

If they were going to get out of this, they were going to have to have Voyager ready to perform for them, at least a little. If they somehow managed to take control of the ship, they were going to have to escape the three Kazon ships that hovered around them. Voyager was faster than the Kazon ships, and she had better reaction time, but that wasn't the case when her warp drive was damaged and offline. The problem with her warp drive was what had gotten them captured in the first place, really. If B'Elanna hadn't failed them all—because that was how she felt about the whole situation—and had come through with keeping the warp drive online or getting it back online almost immediately when the Kazon had first disabled it, they never would have been in this mess in the first place.

Culluh had given the order that B'Elanna was to be given everything she needed to get the repairs underway. She'd asked for space, and she'd been given that. The Kazon might be a fairly advanced species, all things considered, but they were far behind B'Elanna and her crew when it came to understanding technology—especially Voyager's technology. They'd given her space and, from a distance, pretended to know what she was doing at each console.

It was very much to B'Elanna's benefit that they did not, in actuality, know what she was doing.

B'Elanna didn't fully understand the message that Daryl had been trying to send her with his words about the Trojan horse, but she thought she might have the gist of what he wanted to say. She'd gone to work on the warp drive and found that, with everything she needed at her disposal and no Kazon ships firing on them, she was able to get the warp drive online and functioning quickly. She didn't want the Kazon to know that, though, because she already knew that they would use the ship—just as soon as she was warp capable again—to go to wherever it was they intended to go to unload their newly acquired slaves.

B'Elanna allowed them to see the warp drive reactivating—which told her that everything functioned as it should—as a sign that she was working as hard as she could. She also allowed them to see the sleep function that she activated as the warp drive malfunctioning and shutting down again. She set up her own hardware block, encrypted the information, and set it to a passcode that nobody would be able to guess. She hid it behind some quickly executed programming that would allow the Kazon engineers to play in Voyager's computers for a while—mucking around and looking for a solution to a problem that didn't really exist—without figuring out what was really happening.

B'Elanna had gotten power back online, within the ship, so that consoles everywhere would be functioning. She'd also managed to get back helm control and short- and long-range sensors. Then, she'd put everything behind the same kind of locked and secured wall that she'd created for accessing the warp drive controls. She made sure that all of her hastily created programs would allow lesser knowledgeable engineers to tinker for a while—pushing buttons and making a mess for themselves—without actually creating a mess for her to deal with later, and without easily or quickly reaching any concrete indication that B'Elanna had sabotaged her own system.

Her last act was to create a type of blind field program in the ship's interior sensors. It would give the appearance that interior sensors were working while, essentially, cutting the actual wires to those sensors until she accessed the computer from a console and entered her personal code.

She gave the Kazons power. She gave them replicators to keep them happy and entertained. She gave them limited access to all the ship's systems, but she programmed enough visible bugs that they would believe that things were still malfunctioning and short circuiting.

Then she drew on her best performance abilities to convince them that she'd done all that she could do without the chance to simply go back to her quarters and brainstorm some possible future plan for repairs. She'd left the system in the hands of the Kazon engineers, which she had pretended to believe were capable of solving problems in her absence, and she'd begged a PADD to take back for her work—simply so it was more convincing to those who were guarding her that she was actually actively interested in solving the problems that were still too much for her.

Instead of viewing her suspiciously, the Kazons seemed to accept the working systems—and the seemingly malfunctioning systems that she'd worked over so carefully—as evidence that she wanted to be a good slave to their Maje. They'd granted her the PADD, which was little more than useless, even though she'd convinced them that she could use it for a great many things, and then they'd gotten to work pushing buttons like lesser apes trying to coax treats from machines they couldn't possibly understand.

Cebrall, B'Elanna's keeper, led her back to the captain's quarters without saying a word to her. He was a Kazon of few words, as far as B'Elanna could tell, and she was content for things to stay that way. She wasn't a fan of small talk, even with individuals whose company she enjoyed, and she absolutely didn't want to put any of her energy into trying to talk to him.

Most of her energy, at the moment, was going toward trying to figure out how they could still get out of this without losing a lot of their crew members.

She didn't believe that a diplomatic approach was really going to do anything. She appreciated Kathryn's desire to adhere to Starfleet regulations and procedures whenever possible, but she was also quick to say that, sometimes, that just wasn't possible. Perhaps it was her inner Klingon, but she felt like they weren't going to be able to sit down and have a conversation with Culluh about all the reasons that he should let them go. He'd already violently taken over the ship, claimed ownership of the ship and her entire crew, and earmarked them for slavery in different regions of the Delta Quadrant—after admitting that he was perfectly comfortable killing them all if that's what it took to simply be rid of them.

Culluh wasn't going to want to sit down and have a rational discussion about returning Voyager to those that called her home—especially not when Kathryn was going to insist that he still wasn't getting any of the technology that he coveted.

They were all going to have to accept that, if they were taking Voyager back, it was likely going to have to be done the same way that Culluh had taken her—with violence and at least a little trickery. B'Elanna, at least, had already done her part with a few well-placed tricks.

The doors to the captain's quarters opened when Cebrall punched in the code that Kathryn had provided when they'd first escorted Culluh's private collection of slaves to his quarters. B'Elanna stepped inside at Cebrall's gesture that she should do so, and the Kazon guard followed closely on her heels.

The living area of the quarters was empty, and there was nothing but silence to greet them. Seska and Culluh must be gone, taking with them their respective slaves—Kathryn and Carol.

"If I'm allowed," B'Elanna said, turning to speak to Cebrall as he stood like a sentry, holding his electrical rod, "I'd like to have a chance to think over some of these issues and see if I can't find some functional way of getting the warp drive back online."

Cebrall opened his mouth like he might respond to B'Elanna's request, and then his eyes darted just over B'Elanna's shoulder. Before he could move or respond, and before B'Elanna could even turn to see what had caught his attention, the phaser beam struck him and he crumpled to the floor. For a second, B'Elanna stood staring at the body of the Kazon. Then, she turned to look over her shoulder. Carol stood there, a phaser in her hands. She looked almost in shock—almost like she was as surprised as B'Elanna was to see that Cebrall was lying perfectly still on the floor.

B'Elanna wondered if she was in shock, too. She felt, for a moment, oddly detached from the scene surrounding her. She walked over and leaned down next to the Kazon's body. She could tell by his appearance what she already felt in her gut.

"That phaser's set to kill," B'Elanna mused. "We better get him out of the middle of the floor before someone comes back. A dead body ruins the element of surprise."

Even as B'Elanna spoke, she was surprised to hear herself. She was surprised that Carol had shot and killed Cebrall and that, though she wore a somewhat blank and shocked expression, she hadn't said anything about it. She was surprised that Carol grabbed the Kazon's arm, without hesitation, and helped B'Elanna drag him into the bedroom.

And when she got into the bedroom, if she weren't surprised enough, B'Elanna felt her whole world do something of a spin.

"BaQa," B'Elanna spat as her eyes focused on what she saw and transferred the information to her slightly stunned and exhausted brain. "That's a lot of blood!"

If she'd wondered where Culluh had gone or why he'd left his prized slave behind, she no longer had to wonder. For the first time, B'Elanna realized that Carol's face and shirt were at least a little splattered with blood—in her shock over the quick murder of Cebrall, which she'd at least partially thought might have been something of an accident, B'Elanna hadn't noticed the blood. Now she couldn't possibly unsee it.

Like a person who was truly at least a little in genuine shock, Carol walked over to look at the bed like she hadn't seen the mess there that had once been Maje Culluh of the Kazon-Nistrim.

B'Elanna's stomach churned and her heart pounded in her chest. It was one thing to be trained to fight in battle. It was another to see someone laid out with their throat slit and their blood spilled.

"You killed him?" B'Elanna asked, not entirely sure whether to ask the question or make the statement.

Carol turned and looked at her. Her chin quivered, and she sobbed one strong sob before covering her hand with her mouth. She was absolutely in something like shock, that much was clear.

"He was going to take my baby," Carol said. "He would've taken it. They all want to take them—mine and Kathryn's. They want to make them slaves. Kill them." She looked back at Culluh's lifeless body—already graying. "He would've taken it. And he would have turned everyone—everyone—into slaves or killed them. I couldn't let him do that."

B'Elanna felt the blood in her body run cold. Suddenly, she understood the Trojan horse. She understood what Daryl had been saying. She understood that he knew that the baby, and the need to protect her baby, would set off the Trojan horse. And then, all at once, B'Elanna recognized that the shock wasn't so much shock, in the traditional sense, as it was a trauma response.

Still, it was a trauma response that had already removed Culluh and one guard from the mix. It was a trauma response that could work in their benefit for the time being.

"OK," B'Elanna soothed, reaching her hands out toward Carol, but showing them, palm-forward, just in case Carol might misinterpret her actions. "It's OK. You're right. He was—going to take the baby, and we're not going to let that happen. We're not going to let a single Kazon take the baby."

"No," Carol agreed, shaking her head.

"What did you—do to him?" B'Elanna asked.

Carol reached down and quickly—very quickly, and almost too quickly for B'Elanna's comfort for the moment—produced a blade from her boot.

"I cut his throat," Carol said matter-of-factly. She returned the knife to her boot as smoothly as she'd extracted it.

B'Elanna surveyed the situation. Maje Culluh was dead. His throat was slit and, for whatever reason, it appeared the blade had also been driven through his eye socket as though cutting his throat wasn't sufficient to kill him. One of his guards was dead. There was absolutely no negotiation from this point forward. The only thing to do now was to figure out how they managed to fight against the Kazons.

And B'Elanna wondered if, despite her own earlier misgivings, they might have their secret weapon already.

B'Elanna moved to Cebrall's body. She took the phaser from his belt and offered it out to Carol.

"Trade me," B'Elanna said, waving her hand at Carol as she pointed to her phaser.

"Why?" Carol asked.

"This one has a full charge," B'Elanna said. "And I want you to have as much power as you can get. We need to get out of here. Any other Kazon that sees us is—they're going to want the same thing Culluh wanted, and we're not going to let that happen."

"No," Carol agreed. "We can't. But—what do we do?"

"I honestly don't know," B'Elanna said, waving toward the weapon again. Carol traded her the phaser for the one with the full charge. "But—I think we're off to a pretty good start."


	52. Chapter 52

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I just want to say that my Klingonese/Klingon (depending on the show) is not very good, and I'm using online dictionaries, so if you're one of those who speaks it fluently, please forgive me my errors! **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think! **

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Kathryn walked between Seska and Verri so that Verri could always be sure that Kathryn's back was to him in case she needed a reminder that she was Culluh's slave and shouldn't think that the pips she still wore on her collar meant anything anymore.

Seska had very little to say on the rest of their tour of Voyager. They'd walked the corridors with an uncomfortable amount of Kazon soldiers crammed into them, but Kathryn had no clear indication of how many of Culluh's people were on the ship. She was sure that they were going back and forth between their ships and Voyager—especially since they discovered that transporters were back online while they'd been doing their tour—and she, admittedly, had some difficulty telling one angry and filthy Kazon from the next. She might have seen the same Kazon a dozen times, in a different location and with a different companion, and failed to notice the repetition. She was only certain that she could identify Culluh, because she'd dealt with him so much, and Verri, because everything about the Kazon was burned—literally and figuratively—into her.

Kathryn was happy to keep her back turned to Verri and his electrical rod. She'd accepted, without protest, the few angry smacks she'd received, here and there, since leaving sickbay. All of them were given under Seska's orders, and all of them came from her very evident anger toward Kathryn and the rest of the universe.

For someone who claimed to be a dedicated mistress of Maje Culluh, Seska wasn't doing well to hide her fury over the fact that the infant she was carrying, somewhat roughly so that he fussed a great deal, was biologically her Maje's son. For someone who had used and betrayed Chakotay—and had attempted to steal his DNA to create a child—Seska seemed particularly upset to find that her plan had failed.

Kathryn considered herself to be reasonably intelligent, and she wasn't under the slightest impression that Seska wasn't angry with her for a great many things. She was angry at her for being a Starfleet captain, and for ruining her plans with Chakotay's Maquis crew, but she was mostly angry at Kathryn—if Kathryn's assumptions were correct—for being Chakotay's chosen partner and for, beyond a shadow of a doubt and with Chakotay's own blessing, carrying Chakotay's child.

Kathryn gladly kept her back turned to Verri because, when they figured out what they were going to do and made it out of this, the doctor could heal her back and shoulders with a dermal regenerator. She didn't want the rod landing hard against any other part of her body, though, if Seska might choose to try to rid her of the one thing that, it seemed, Seska was angry not to have for herself.

The doors closed behind them in the living room and all was quiet. Kathryn hoped that B'Elanna and Carol, wherever they were, were faring well. Kathryn looked around the living area. It was strange to think that, not that very long ago, this had been her home. These had been her quarters. She could still practically feel the presence of Chakotay and her former self in the same room—like they'd only just left. And, now, she was simply trying to figure out if she'd ever take ownership of that room again.

Her eyes caught on something, and she studied it without trying to draw attention to it. She realized what it was—an electrical rod. One of the slave-driving devices that the Kazons had brought on board for training. It was under the corner of the couch, mostly hidden, like it had rolled there. She had no idea who might have left it, or why there was a Kazon leading a slave around the ship without one. Finally, to satisfy her mind, she decided that Culluh may have left it. He hadn't favored the rod, and was likely to see that Carol wasn't going to buck his authority. She remembered the placement of the rod, though, in case she might somehow get her hands on it. It wouldn't help her against the phasers that Seska and Verri carried, but any weapon was better than no weapon at all, especially if she somehow had the element of surprise on her side.

Seska ranted about something—some displeasure with the way that the warriors were conducting themselves, and she told Verri about how she'd be reporting a certain group of them to Culluh to be dealt with. Kathryn didn't really listen to Seska's complaints, and she wondered if Verri even paid them any attention. As she paced with the infant in her arms—in long, angry, stomping steps—around the living room, Kathryn thought it was fairly evident that her real complaint wasn't with the warriors and, instead, was something she was working through, herself.

Kathryn certainly wasn't going to try to counsel the woman. After all, it was truly Seska that had gotten all of them—every last one of them, Kazon, Maquis, and Starfleet alike—into this situation.

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"OK," B'Elanna whispered, practically breathing into Carol's ear, "your phaser has a full charge. Mine almost does. Your aim is better than mine, so you're aiming for the Kazon warrior. He's standing guard at the door."

B'Elanna was no counselor. Like most students at Starfleet Academy, before she'd dropped out, she'd taken a number of classes on empathy and dealing with other species. She'd also taken a class that had dealt directly with the psychology of trauma and dealing with others who were experiencing the different effects of trauma. When you were heading into situations where you might encounter unfamiliar races and species, it was best to have some tools in your toolbelt that would help you get individuals through psychological episodes which could cause them to react in ways that were uncharacteristic of themselves and potentially dangerous.

In addition, it was important to remember that—no matter how much the Starfleet ideals wanted peace and prosperity for all species—the fact of the matter remained that war and fighting were a way of life. Having been raised by a Klingon mother, B'Elanna understood war and fighting better than she understood most things. One of her favorite storybooks, as a child, she remembered had been called something like "The PetaQ Without Batlh" and had surrounded the concept of a lowly PetaQ that attempted to restore their honor. She'd loved the book mostly for its colorful pictures where blooming flowers of illustrated blood had decorated the chests of many cartoonish warriors that had died with honor.

B'Elanna understood war. She understood honor, battles, killing and dying, and enemies. She understood that trauma and psychological suffering were very real things—and that they could be absolutely devastating—but she hadn't been raised with very much empathy and, therefore, she wasn't very good at providing it, not even when she wanted to be.

She told herself that, when they got out of this, she would work on that. She had improved, since becoming part of this crew, things about herself that she wanted to improve. She could continue to improve.

For now, she was doing her best.

She could easily see that Carol was dealing with a great deal of psychological discomfort. She might have called it repressed, but it was right there on the surface for the moment. She wanted to comfort her but, really, she needed her to keep that fire burning. It was, perhaps, the reason that Klingons had never been very good at empathy. To be a successful warrior was to live with the suffering you had caused and felt, and it was to continue to do so because that was what was required of you. Your past pain could help drive your further glory and success in battle.

B'Elanna only offered Carol the comfort that she'd acted as she should. She'd done what she needed to do, what must be done, and now she must continue that. Like a good warrior, she had to fight until the battle was through.

Carol seemed as inclined to agree with B'Elanna as if she'd grown up on Q'onoS.

B'Elanna had carefully and quietly slipped over to peer out the doorway and to figure out where everyone was located. They were one small step from gaining at least a little more freedom for themselves and, in the process, freeing Kathryn.

"He's not holding his phaser," B'Elanna said. "So that buys you some time. Seska's put the baby down now, but she's moving around. I'll try to keep her from firing on you or the captain."

"Is Kathryn OK?" Carol breathed out, her voice still maintaining the slightly shaky quality it had been holding since B'Elanna had first returned to the captain's quarters.

"She will be," B'Elanna assured her. "Especially once we're rid of that Kazon."

Carol nodded her head.

"Let's go," she said.

B'Elanna didn't belabor the point. She checked her phaser one more time and carefully and quietly stepped to the point where they could come through doorway to surprise those gathered in the living area. She allowed Carol to pass through first, and she heard Carol's phaser fire before she'd even fully stepped through the doorway. B'Elanna followed after her, meaning to at least get Seska's attention, not sure what they should really do with her, but Seska hit the ground only a second after the Kazon did.

Carol didn't seem to believe that Seska deserved any more mercy than the Kazons she's brought with her.

B'Elanna stepped forward, ready to offer an explanation to a clearly surprised Kathryn Janeway.

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Kathryn's stomach clenched almost painfully, and her chest responded in kind. Slowly she felt some of her muscles relaxing. She'd been surprised by the fact that they weren't alone. It had been silent in the quarters. The initial shock had come just from realizing that someone else was there. It had been followed, closely, by the almost immediate phaser-fire that had dropped Verri—his electrical rod rolling across the floor—and then had dropped Seska in the middle of a squeaked protest of surprise.

Kathryn didn't have to get anywhere near the bodies to know that both were dead, or very soon would be. Carol had been the one to fire the phaser. She still stood, holding the phaser, like she expected to have to fire on someone else any minute.

B'Elanna stepped forward and put her hand on Carol's shoulder. Carol returned her phaser to the holster on her hip.

"Carol's killed Maje Culluh," B'Elanna offered. "And—our guards are dead. Culluh had plans to make everyone slaves and to kill anyone who didn't obey. He intended to take the babies and sell them as slaves."

"I had to stop him," Carol said. "And we've got to get the Kazons off the ship. They'll try to follow his orders."

"We're not going to let anyone be sold or killed. We're doing what we need to do," B'Elanna said. "What we have to do. We've got to take Voyager back. This has gone too far for negotiations."

Kathryn realized a few things very quickly. Carol wasn't entirely herself—at least, she wasn't the giggling, happy-to-assist everyone Carol that they knew so well. B'Elanna, too, had a determination about her, and part of that determination seemed to be to protect Carol, even though there was nothing, as far as Kathryn could see, from which Carol needed protection at the moment.

"We're absolutely outside the window for negotiation," Kathryn said. "I believe, at this point, the best offer we can put on the table is to allow the Kazon warriors to leave the ship and retreat. That is, if we can get the upper hand."

"We don't exactly have a plan," Carol offered. She was collecting the weapons off of Seska and Verri. She passed Kathryn a phaser and Kathryn borrowed the holster from Seska's body so that she could keep her hands free when possible. "We need a plan."

"We need to figure out where they're holding everyone," Kathryn said. "I tried to figure that out while I was with Seska, but I was never sure which cargo bay they're using."

"Cargo bay two," B'Elanna offered. "I got warp drive and sensors back online. I put them behind a code wall so that it appears they're malfunctioning. I set internal sensors to read all-clear, so that they couldn't track us."

"You knew we'd get loose," Carol said.

"I had some hope," B'Elanna said. "I figured out how to keep the path we take undetected. Carol figured out how to clear the path. Now we just need to figure out what we're doing to keep from getting killed between here and the cargo bay."

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"It looks to me like we're off to a pretty good start," she said. "I can tell you this. The corridors are crawling with Kazon soldiers and guards. If we had to go straight to the cargo bay, we'd never make it. Sickbay is empty, though, and there are ventilation access points in sickbay."

"We can use them to get to the cargo bay," B'Elanna filled in.

Kathryn nodded.

"And then, we can use them to exit somewhere safe, find a Jefferies tube, and help clear the guards away from the cargo bay doors," Kathryn offered. "We're going to need a pillowcase or two."

"A pillowcase?" Carol asked.

"To gather up the weapons," Kathryn said. "We could use the replicators, but the Kazon warriors are likely to notice and question that use of power. We don't want them coming to see what's happening. On our way to sickbay, we're bound to run into a few Kazons. We need some weapons to pass to the crew when we reach the cargo bay. Otherwise, they're unarmed and this will never work. We'll be putting ourselves at some risk, but we've got to have some weapons."

"What about the armory?" Carol asked. "A ship like this—we've got to have an armory. They haven't had any reason to clear it out, since they haven't left the ship, and the entire crew is locked up. What are the chances we can clear the armory and take the weapons to our people?"

Kathryn looked at B'Elanna.

"You know the inner workings of this ship better than anyone," Kathryn said. "Can you get us to the armory from the ventilation access points in sickbay?"

B'Elanna smiled to herself.

"And back to the cargo bay without breaking a sweat," she confirmed.

"Excellent," Kathryn confirmed. "Grab some pillowcases. There's no need to pass up what we can gather on the way. There's no telling what might be useful."

B'Elanna rushed after the pillowcases and returned almost immediately. She put the pillowcases in Kathryn's hand. Both of them were splattered with blood that, in some places, was still a little damp. Kathryn furrowed her brow at B'Elanna.

"They were the cleanest ones in there," B'Elanna offered. She cut her eyes in Carol's direction and Kathryn understood. She put on a smile, reminding everyone that everything was going to be perfectly fine, and she accepted them.

"Thank you, B'Elanna," Kathryn said. "They'll work perfectly."

Carol deposited the weapons she was holding into one pillowcase with the ones that Kathryn had picked up, and Kathryn rearranged them all. Each of them was armed. They had three electrical rods and one extra phaser in the one pillowcase. It wasn't much, but it would do. They would gather more on the way.

"OK," Kathryn said. "Let's go. Everyone—have your phasers ready. We're doing this, so there's no hesitation. We don't give them the chance to get the upper hand."

"I'll walk in the middle. I can walk backwards, keeping watch that way, and whoever's behind me can direct me," B'Elanna said.

"I'll lead the way," Kathryn said.

"Wait," Carol said. "We can't just leave the baby."

She stepped close to the infant that Seska had left, half-swaddled and roughly tossed onto the couch.

"It's Chakotay's son," B'Elanna said, almost as if she were simply stating information rather than really agreeing or disagreeing with Carol.

"The doctor confirmed that it's Culluh's son," Kathryn said. "There's no trace of Chakotay's DNA. I believe that's one of the reasons that Seska's been particularly unhappy with the baby since then."

Carol leaned close to the baby and stroked the bony ridge on its forehead.

"I'm sorry," she offered to the infant. "I'm sorry—about your Mommy." She gathered the baby up and Kathryn felt her stomach churn. There was no great solution to this. "Even if it isn't Chakotay's baby, it's still a baby."

"We can't take it," Kathryn said. "We have to leave him here."

"We can't just leave him," Carol said.

"He's safer if we do," Kathryn said. "In here? He's safe. The Kazons won't kill him. Even if they didn't know the truth, Culluh claimed the baby. They won't harm it. Our people won't harm the infant. If we take it out there, it could accidentally get caught in the crossfire. And—it'll only slow us down or give us away. The best thing to do for it, is to leave it here."

Carol nuzzled the baby like she was thinking, and the baby seemed content for the first time in a while. Of course, given Seska's earlier treatment, it was probably welcoming some affection. Even though neither Cardassians nor Kazons were known for their kindness, their infants must have a point before they knew the behavior that was expected of them.

"We'll come back for him," B'Elanna offered. She walked over toward Carol. She put her hands out, touching Carol's arms long before she was beside her. "We'll leave him for now. Where he's safe. And we'll come back for him when the ship is cleared."

Carol seemed to accept that, and she let B'Elanna take the infant from her. B'Elanna put the baby down on the sofa, where Seska had left him, but Carol immediately reached for him again.

"You can't just leave a baby on a couch," Carol said. "He could roll off. He could get hurt." She looked around, apparently dissatisfied with the area around her, and put the baby on the floor. She dragged all manner of cushions and pillows off the sofa and made a border around the baby.

"He'll be safe like that," Kathryn assured her. "Come on—we've got to go. There's no telling when the warriors will be seeking advice or orders from Culluh. We need to make sure that we're not here when they come."

Carol nodded, and immediately she followed after B'Elanna, already assuming her position to protect the half-Klingon as she walked backward to keep watch over Carol's shoulder. Kathryn took a deep breath, accepted that whatever happened, at least they would know they'd tried their best to save the crew and the ship, and opened the door to lead the other two women into the corridor—her phaser already ready to stop the first Kazon she saw.


	53. Chapter 53

**AN: Here we go, another chapter here! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"I'm just sayin' that if we can find somebody in here that trips that little Vulcan's trigger, he might just get horny enough to rip these panels up if we can convince him it'll buy him a piece of ass," Daryl said.

"The Pon Farr happens only every like seven years," Tom offered. "Without other interference, of course, to the natural cycle. And you can't conjure it up to exploit it like that."

"OK," Daryl accepted. "Then what if we piss him off? Make him really fuckin' angry? Then we let him rip these things into strips, and then we use 'em as weapons."

"That's not exactly…" Chakotay hesitated. He looked at Tom. Daryl looked at Tom, as well.

"That's not the way Vulcans operate," Tom said.

"More Klingons?" Daryl asked.

"Definitely more Klingons," Tom offered.

"Shit—we give our only one away," Daryl said. He leaned against the wall and stopped trying to pry the sheeting off the wall. "Got any other species around here that's got like some incredible Hulk thing going on?"

"I remember that," Chakotay mused. "The Hulk thing he's talking about."

"It was from one of the movies we watched," Tom said with a sigh. "Everybody liked it. I remember you and the captain both enjoyed it. Back when our ship was our own and not overrun with Kazons."

"No Hulk aliens, then?" Daryl asked again, laughing to himself. He lit himself another cigarette. Neither of the men were bothered by it. "That's fucking disappointing."

"The Vulcans would be the closest we could come," Harry offered, leaning against the wall next to Daryl. "And they're trained to control their emotions. They spend their whole lives perfecting emotional control."

"No way to talk 'em out of it?" Daryl asked. "We need some kinda weapons, and they stripped this fuckin' room clean. If we had somethin' to fight with, we'da been outta this room ten times by now."

"I thought you were confident that all we had to do was wait," Chakotay said, crossing his arms across his chest. He wasn't really challenging Daryl. The smirk on his lips said he was looking for entertainment, more than anything.

"I am," Daryl said. "Don't change that I'm getting restless as hell just waitin' around."

"What would you have done in the Millennium Plague?" Tom asked. "If you'd been surrounded by the Dead and you'd needed to get out of somewhere?"

"I'da used a weapon, and I'da got out," Daryl offered.

"But what if you didn't have any weapons," Harry asked.

"I weren't never this outta weapons," Daryl said. "Not in a normal circumstance. There wasn't ever anybody just strippin' the place clean. And the couple of times I was a prisoner anywhere—I either made weapons, or I had to wait until there was an opening. You know? An opportunity."

"Well, it doesn't look like we can make weapons," Tom said. "So, I guess we better start looking for that opportunity."

Daryl hummed his agreement, and settled back against the panel with a sigh. People were getting antsy. Some were going stir crazy. Others were starting to fear for their lives. Chakotay had made the rounds, like a good first officer, and done his best to calm people down. He'd assured them that this was all going to be fine. They were going to figure things out, and they were going to come out on the other side of things.

But people still got antsy in situations like this, especially when there was nothing to do, and there wasn't even a fake job that they could give everyone to make them believe that they were making some kind of a difference.

They simply had to wait for something, and they weren't even sure what they were waiting for.

They didn't have to wait long, though.

Daryl looked up at the same time that Chakotay looked up, even though it was Chakotay's name that Kathryn hissed down from the ceiling. She'd removed a panel from the ceiling, it appeared, and she was peering down.

"Kathryn!" Chakotay called up. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Kathryn assured him. "We're all fine. Is it safe?"

Chakotay looked around.

"We're alone. There are guards outside the doors, but none of them are standing guard in here. What happened?"

"Carol OK?" Daryl called out.

"She's fine," Kathryn assured him. "She's here. Just a few feet behind me."

Daryl felt his pulse pick up. Kathryn had to be in a duct of some sort. He could see the top of the duct just above her head—a metal tube and nothing more. She barely fit into the space.

"Carol's claustrophobic," Daryl said. "Can't breathe when it gets too tight."

"I know," Kathryn said. "Here—take these."

She grunted, clearly struggling to move at all. There was some noise coming from the space where she was wedged in. They'd moved rather quietly until this moment. Daryl hadn't heard them approaching, and he hoped that meant that the Kazon guards hadn't heard them, either. Whatever they were doing now—whatever shift was taking place—caused a great deal of racket, though. He worried that the Kazon would hear, and become curious, before they managed to have some kind of plan in place. He resolved himself, if there should be any attempt of the guards to enter, to simply swing on someone nearby and shove them into someone else. With the unrest that was already growing among the exhausted crew, it wouldn't take much, and it wouldn't take long, for a fight to break out. It would cover over noise and keep the guards at bay for a least a little while—and, hopefully, they wouldn't decide to just fire on the whole group of them to stop the ruckus.

Soon the bumping above them was done, though, and Daryl didn't have to slug any unsuspecting crew member to try to save them all.

"Here," Kathryn said, pushing a large bundle through the hole the removed panel had created. Chakotay reached up and caught the bottom of the bundle. Daryl moved close to him and helped him move it downward. They passed it off to Tom and Harry who were waiting nearby. "Wait," Kathryn said. After a little less struggle than before, she passed them another bundle, and then two more. She was panting, out of breath, when they were all through the hole.

They opened the bundles to find that they were packed with weapons. There were large rifle type weapons, and there were smaller hand phasers. There might not be enough for every person there to be armed, but there was certainly enough for a good start.

"It looks like you cleaned out the armory," Chakotay mused.

"It's all we could drag with us," Kathryn said. "Ventilation hasn't been the fastest way to travel. It's tight, and we're crawling—practically slithering in places."

"Carol—is she OK?" Daryl asked. "I gotta—can I see her? She can't breathe in spaces like that."

Kathryn smiled at him and looked over her shoulder.

"There isn't enough room for her to crawl over me," Kathryn said. "Or even beside me. Carol—are you OK? Daryl's out here. He needs to know."

Daryl heard Carol's voice, very faintly. She was clearly some distance back in the tunnel—probably where she wouldn't be accidentally kicked by Kathryn, and would have a bit more air to breathe than she would have if she were practically on top of the woman. She was also, more than likely, keeping her voice low so as to keep from catching the attention of any Kazon.

"I'm OK."

He smiled to himself. The sound of her voice made his heart leap wildly within his chest. Suddenly, his throat felt like it was closing up and he couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to see her face as absolutely desperately as he did at that moment.

"She's OK?" He asked one more time. "Don't you lie to me."

Kathryn smiled.

"She's fine," Kathryn said. "B'Elanna and I let her know about the—the fact that none of this is strong enough to withstand a determined Klingon. If B'Elanna needed to break us out of here, she could."

Tom laughed quietly behind Daryl.

"Like the Hulk," he offered quietly.

Kathryn smiled, knowingly. Daryl's stomach tightened. He would have to ask Tom about movie night, sometime. It seemed that it might be somewhat popular among the crewmembers. Daryl was suddenly thankful for the fact that Tom enjoyed everything old-fashioned, at least to the natives of this time period, and would have introduced the crew to something like the Hulk.

"Listen, Chakotay," Kathryn said, drawing Chakotay's attention to her. "I don't know if they know what's happened yet, but they're going to realize, very soon, if they haven't, that we're loose somewhere on the ship. Carol killed Culluh. She killed two of his private soldiers and Seska."

"What happened to the baby?" Chakotay asked.

"He's fine," Kathryn assured him. "I have so much to tell you, but we don't have time for all of it. Not right now. There will be time later. I need you to listen to the plan."

"I'm listening," Chakotay assured her.

"B'Elanna has tampered with everything," Kathryn said. "The sensors on the ship won't indicate any internal problems. The Kazons are cut off from each other as far as the computer is concerned. That buys us some time. She has warp drive ready to go when we need it. We're going to circle back. B'Elanna knows where there's an exit into a Jefferies tube. We're going to do our best to get near the door and help you clear the way. You've got weapons. You need to get to the bridge, if possible. We'll get B'Elanna into a console to open up the helm controls and the warp drive, but we don't want to do that until we're sure that you're back on the bridge. When we get the chance, we're going to warp. We're leaving the three Kazon ships behind. I don't think they'll follow us as soon as they know that Culluh is dead. There's not enough here to make them really want to give up their lives for the ship."

Daryl waved to Tom and Harry, after selecting a weapon for himself and one that he passed to Chakotay. The two men understood his direction, or anticipated it, and immediately took the bags of weapons to begin passing them around. At the rate they were going, the majority of the crew would be armed in a matter of minutes. They'd likely be out the doors before Kathryn, B'Elanna, and Carol made it somewhere to be able to offer them help in escaping the cargo bay.

"What about the Kazon?" Chakotay asked.

Kathryn's countenance was very serious. Daryl could practically feel the iciness of it. There was something else, there, though—something he knew well. Kathryn didn't relish what she was about to say—what she'd done or was going on to do—but she accepted that there was no choice in the matter.

Daryl accepted it, too, the moment that he heard it.

"Our weapons are set to kill," Kathryn said. "The transporters are online. We're leaving a clear line of access to the transporter rooms. If they want to beam to their ships, we're allowing them to save themselves."

"But we're showin' no mercy," Daryl offered.

"I wish it could be different," Kathryn said. "But…"

"We've come too far. Everybody—Kazons, too. They done too much. We done too much." Daryl offered, filling in for her. She seemed grateful to simply be excused from saying the rest.

"There's a chance they'll fire on us when they return to their ships," Chakotay said.

"There's a chance," Kathryn said. "But they don't know how many of their people are alive and how many are dead. Right now, we've got the upper hand. We need to move quickly, though. We've already lost too much time, and time is what's really going to give us the upper hand."

"Get B'Elanna to a control console," Chakotay said.

"Will do, Commander," Kathryn said. She winked at Chakotay—the greatest sign of affection she seemed willing to give him right now, and Chakotay smiled up at her.

"We'll see you on the bridge, Captain," Chakotay offered, before he waved Daryl forward and got the attention of the crew to start putting everyone into their positions so that they could fire on the Kazon guards that would be waiting outside the doors when they forced them open.

Daryl gladly took a position to fire as soon as the door was opened. He felt good. He was optimistic that he'd be sleeping in his bed that night and, like the others, he was ready to get the show on the road. He'd seen just about enough of Kazons to last him a lifetime.

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**AN: I'm just going to let you know that we're going to have a bit of a jump over some of the upcoming details. You've got enough of the proverbial game plan that I don't think we need a play-by-play. I'll let your imaginations fill in some of that. **


	54. Chapter 54

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Making their way to the bridge, once they had weapons in hand, was relatively easy, all things considered. Daryl had no qualms about shooting any and every Kazon asshole that crossed his path, and the herd of bodies that spilled out of the cargo bay kept any of them from really being left with their backs against the literal or proverbial wall at any time.

Daryl kept Tom and Harry between himself and Chakotay—mostly because he felt like Harry was a little shaky with the weapon, and he didn't want to risk leaving him behind—as they headed for the bridge. Everyone else, he reasoned, could get where they were going in their own sweet time. They had a mission to get to the bridge as quickly as possible, and they needed to accomplish it.

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Chakotay tried to block out of his mind a body count for how many Kazon warriors they'd had to kill as they worked their way to the bridge. It wouldn't have been their first choice to handle this situation with violence—it was never Kathryn's first choice to handle any situation with violence—but the Kazon had really left them no choice.

Kathryn was already on the bridge when they got there, and she was alone. Chakotay didn't know if the numerous Kazon corpses were all her doing her not, but she'd cleared her work station, and she was at the helm. As soon as Tom made it onto the bridge, he rushed forward to relieve his captain of her position as ship's pilot.

"Thank you, Tom," Kathryn said, allowing him to take the seat she'd been occupying. She teetered, somewhat, on her feet. Chakotay didn't know if anyone else noticed it, but he hadn't missed the sideways step—clearly unintentional. He was torn, for a second, about how to proceed. She wouldn't appreciate him calling attention to any weakness—not in a moment like this. For the sake of her crew, she would want to hold everything together until she was sure that Voyager was theirs again, and that they were well on their way to being clear of the Kazon-Nistrim. Chakotay gave her space, for a moment, to let her be the captain that they all knew her to be.

"I've got helm control," Tom said.

"Good work, B'Elanna," Kathryn said, tapping a combadge that she'd acquired somewhere. We've got the helm."

"We've got communications?" Chakotay asked.

"Limited," Kathryn said. "She's working on that." She laughed to herself and Chakotay could see exhaustion in her eyes. "She's just one chief engineer, after all. Tom—I want you to engage thrusters. Get us moving while B'Elanna gets the warp core back online."

"Where the hell is Carol?" Daryl asked, somewhat frantically, sidestepping to avoid running into Harry as the ensign moved toward his console. Daryl had searched the whole of the bridge, in a hurry, like Carol might be crouched and hiding somewhere. "She with B'Elanna?"

"She was going to my quarters to handle things there," Kathryn said. "We thought it would be best, since things were mostly under control, to divide and conquer various tasks."

Daryl didn't wait for more information, nor did he request it. He quickly disappeared off the bridge.

"None of the Kazon ships are powering weapons at this time, Captain," Harry offered.

"Thank you, Mr. Kim," Kathryn responded. "I have a hunch they won't."

Chakotay finally stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Kathryn. He felt he'd given her enough space and time that she wouldn't hold his interference against him. As he neared her, he realized that her uniform—damaged as it appeared from a distance— wasn't just shredded in places. The cloth was singed. Burned. And, beneath the burnt cloth, her skin was very badly burned.

"Kathryn," he said, forgetting suddenly that they were on the bridge, in the middle of a firefight, and that Kathryn was focusing on getting the ship back from the Kazons, "you're hurt. Badly."

She smiled at him and reached out a hand to pat him.

"I'm fine, Chakotay," she assured him, prompting him to accept the lie. Kathryn didn't miss a beat in touching her combadge again. "B'Elanna, do I have a ship wide connection?"

"Communications are up," B'Elanna confirmed. "There's some damage and some fusing, but I was able to bypass it. I can open your comm-line from here, whenever you're ready, Captain. Give me another ten minutes and I'll also have the warp drive online."

"Take your time with the warp drive," Kathryn said. "At least—your full ten minutes. I want to give the Kazon warriors that are still on the ship enough time to transport back if they're interested. Open the line, please."

"Aye, Captain," B'Elanna responded. "Line is open."

"Attention Kazon warriors," Kathryn said, her voice echoing through the ship in a ship wide announcement, "this is Captain Janeway speaking. We have taken control of Voyager once more. Your Maje is deceased, as are many of the warriors who would not leave our ship in peace. We do not want further conflict with the Kazon-Nistrim. We would like to leave this area of space. We do not want to fight, but we will, if we're forced to do so. In ten minutes, we'll be departing the area. We are giving you this time and opportunity to transport back to your ships. We will allow you to leave, peacefully, if you do so now. Please don't make us engage in further violence. We would prefer not to see the needless spilling of additional blood. Janeway out."

Chakotay hovered near Kathryn, unsure of exactly what to do. As she was finishing up her announcement to the ship, Tuvok found his way onto the bridge.

"Kazon warriors are transporting out," Tuvok said. "I have no internal sensors, however."

"They're offline," Kathryn said. "B'Elanna won't bring those back until after she finishes with the warp drive. I don't know how…" she stopped, and Chakotay noticed that she visibly swooned a little. He reached his hands out, catching her shoulders, almost hating to touch her because he didn't know the locations and the extent of all her injuries. "I don't know how much of a team she's got back yet," Kathryn finished.

"Everyone is on their way to their previous duty locations," Tuvok said. "All senior staff seems to be reporting under the correct assumption that we're in a current all-hands-on-deck situation."

"Captain," Chakotay said, holding Kathryn's shoulder with one hand and bringing the other to catch her face. He turned her face so that she would look at him. What he'd thought was exhaustion, he now worried was something else entirely. Her attempt to offer him a comforting smile did nothing to comfort him. "With all due respect, Captain," he offered, "I think that the crew can handle it from here. B'Elanna will have warp drives online, and she'll get her team working on repairs. Tom will set a course for home and get us out of here at warp eight. Tuvok will run a sweep as soon as sensors are online, and his team will clear the ship of any remaining Kazon. We'll order that clean-up process begin immediately. Please, Captain, let's get you to sickbay."

Kathryn smiled a little more sincerely.

"You have it all under control, Commander," she said.

"It will be under control," he assured her. "Tuvok? You heard the plan?"

"I did, indeed, Commander," the Vulcan offered.

"You have the bridge, then," Chakotay said. "I'm taking the captain to sickbay."

Kathryn didn't argue with him. Instead, she accepted the support that he offered to her, leaning against him and seeming to welcome a little the opportunity to pass off some of her burden, and she left the bridge with him.

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"You hurt?" Daryl barked out as the door to the captain's quarters came open. Carol had been well enough to verbally command the door to open, when Daryl, upon realizing that he didn't have the code, had called to ask if she was in there. He still needed to hear it, though, from her own mouth, that she wasn't hurt.

"I'm fine," Carol said. "I'm not hurt. You OK?"

"Better now," Daryl offered.

Carol sat on the sofa in the room, perched on one cushion that was placed oddly on the piece of furniture while the rest of the cushions and pillows seemed to have been torn off in some kind of fight—perhaps the same fight that had rendered the two individuals dead that were lying in the floor.

Daryl could immediately identify one of the bodies as Seska—the woman who had caused, really, all of this. He wasn't sad to see her dead, and, as he stepped around her, he resisted the desire to spit on her.

In Carol's arms, quite unhappy about the whole situation, was the infant. She was doing her best to rock it and shush it.

"You do all this?" Daryl asked, nudging the Kazon's body with his boot.

"Yeah," Carol said.

Daryl hummed and nodded.

"You OK?" He asked.

"You already asked me that," Carol offered.

"No," Daryl disagreed. "I asked if you was hurt. Now I wanna know—if you OK."

"Daryl—I think he's hungry," Carol said, her voice cracking just a little. That was answer enough, for the moment. She wasn't OK. She was never OK when she had to kill. But she would be OK.

"OK," Daryl said. "OK—so what'cha want? You wanna let's—feed him?"

Carol got to her feet, the infant in her arms, and walked like she was heading for the replicator. She turned around, suddenly, like she changed her mind, and then she paced a little, bouncing the baby that seemed a little soothed by the movement, but not entirely over the suffering he felt he was enduring.

"What if—he can't have just any milk, Daryl?" Carol asked. "What if he has to have special milk and I killed his mother? He's an alien, Daryl. Like—like a real alien. And I killed his mother, and he's hungry. And—I don't know what we do about that."

Daryl got up and walked close to Carol. He peeked at the baby. He was chubby and clearly unaccustomed to missing meals. He had a bony forehead, and his cheeks were wet with tears. Daryl walked over to the replicator.

"It's OK," he said. "OK? It's OK. It's all gonna be fine, Carol. We ain't gonna let him starve. Computer—make me some…what the hell is he? What was she?"

"I don't know what she was," Carol said. "He's her son with Culluh. So, he's part Kazon and part—whatever the hell she was."

"Good enough," Daryl said. "Computer—make me a baby bottle with Kazon milk."

"Unable to comply," the computer declared after it beeped at him.

"Computer—is that because you don't have Kazon milk, you don't understand me, or you just broke?"

"Unable to follow command," the computer responded back.

"Computer, that was a fuckin' question," Daryl growled.

"Please repeat your inquiry," the computer responded.

"Computer—Kazon milk. One. Baby bottle. Now. Baby Kazon is hungry!"

"Unable to comply," the computer responded.

"Great fuckin' time for this thing to be broken," Daryl growled.

"It was replicating earlier," Carol said.

Daryl sucked in a breath and purposefully tried to calm himself. Maybe the computer was sensitive and just didn't like his tone of voice. His brother, Merle, had always sworn that bikes and cars had feelings. You had to talk to them nicely to get them to do what the hell you wanted. Daryl was willing to accept, for the sake of feeding the bony-headed baby, that the computer might want him to check his tone and his attitude.

"Computer—baby bottle," Daryl said, calmly and determined not to be quite so picky and demanding. "Milk. Boob temperature."

His new request seemed to calm the computer. It replicated a bottle and Daryl brought it to Carol, not entirely sure of what they'd gotten, but at least pleased to have something to offer her and the shrieking infant.

"Feels warm," Daryl offered.

"What if it's not the right kind of milk?" Carol asked, nuzzling the baby.

"I guess he'll spit it out," Daryl said.

"What if it's like—milk for one species is poison for another species?" Carol asked. "Daryl—this baby is an alien! And it's not a Klingon or a Vulcan. Or even a Talaxian or an Ocampan, like Kes. We don't know anything about these aliens. Even our aliens don't know anything about these aliens."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Maybe you're lookin' at it wrong. Maybe all babies are like—created equal. Don't matter the alien. Because to them, we're aliens, too," Daryl said. "Give it the milk. Somethin' bad happens, we'll take it to the doctor. I don't think it's gonna be poisoned by some regular human milk made by the magic food machine." Daryl laughed to himself. "But I mean…shit…what the hell do I know? I don't even know how to handle human kids that well. They're all aliens to me."

"That's not true," Carol said softly. "You're good with babies. With children." She offered the baby the bottle, and he accepted the nipple after some initial urging on Carol's part. As soon as it was in his mouth, he started sucking ferociously, like he hadn't eaten in days.

"He's starved," Daryl offered. "You reckon she ain't fed him none?"

"Maybe he just eats more," Carol said. "Maybe he needs more than this…"

"If he does, we'll make the computer spit him out another bottle," Daryl offered. "Don't worry—we don't let him starve."

"You want to hold him?" Carol asked. She gestured like she was willing to pass the infant over to him. Daryl considered it a moment.

Her eyes were damp. She was upset, clearly, but he expected her to be upset. He imagined that there would be at least a few days where they sat and discussed what had taken place. They all found killing difficult, and it seemed that Carol had been forced to do a great deal of killing it in her life. At least here, on Voyager, they were sometimes allotted the quiet time to simply relax and handle some of their shit. That time, Daryl was sure, would go a long way toward healing current and past hurt. In addition, Daryl already knew that, in this case, their hands were all dirty. They'd all killed in this battle. Carol would be able to relax in the knowledge that she hadn't done this alone. She would be able to relax in the knowledge that she'd done what she had to do for her newly forming family, and they wouldn't hold it against her.

Daryl could see, on her face, that everything had stirred her up.

She needed to come down. She needed to come fully back to the moment. She needed to relax and, when she was finally open to suggestion and a bit more grounded, she probably needed some simple things like food, water, and, maybe, a trip to sickbay.

For just a moment, though, she was beginning to calm because a fat little baby with an odd-looking forehead was greedily sucking on a bottle while he glared at the both of them over his disagreement with the wait he'd suffered.

"Nah," Daryl offered. "Looks like you got it. I'ma just start—collecting the bodies. Get 'em piled up. We gonna clean up the ship later."

"I can help," Carol said.

"I think you're good right now," Daryl said. "I got this."

"Daryl—the body in the bedroom? Culluh?" Carol offered. Daryl hummed. "It's a bit of—mess. I slit his throat."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Of course, you did," he said. "I got it. I'll wrap it up in the blankets. Ain't like they gonna want to keep 'em no way if you cut his throat in the bed. Ain't nothin' but a thing. It'll get handled. Cleaned up."

Daryl had just gathered Seska's body up, dragging her by her shoulders to move her on top of the fallen Kazon warrior that lay near her, when the bedroom door open under the command of someone who had clearly received the code at some point.

The moment that Daryl saw the Kazon warrior standing there, he dropped Seska's body and grabbed his phaser from his belt. The Kazon held up his hands in surrender. He looked first at Daryl, and then he glanced at Carol.

"I didn't come to fight," he said sincerely. "I only came for the son of Maje Culluh."


	55. Chapter 55

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Chakotay would be forever grateful to the EMH that his ever-adapting subroutines had read and understood enough of the situation to quickly tell Kathryn that, in sickbay, relationship protocols weren't expected to be followed in the same way they might be on the bridge.

With that information almost immediately offered to her, she'd practically fallen into Chakotay's arms. She'd allowed him to help her out of her badly burnt and damaged uniform. She'd allowed him to help her cover herself in the teal sickbay blanket that preserved a little of her modesty, and kept her covered from the eyes of any of her crew members that entered sickbay seeking treatment for injuries, while baring her injured back to the doctor. She'd rested her head against Chakotay's chest, as he stood next to her at the biobed, and she'd accepted his affection as the doctor had scanned her and started treatment.

Chakotay lifted his head enough to allow Kathryn to tip hers to the side. While the doctor worked, mending the cruel burns that covered her back and shoulders, Kes pressed hyposprays at intervals into Kathryn's neck. Kathryn sighed after the hiss of the hypospray and Chakotay immediately stepped closer, again, and kissed the top of her head.

"Thank you, Kes," Kathryn said.

"You're welcome, Captain," Kes offered. She scanned Kathryn once more.

"Well?" Chakotay asked.

Kes gave him a smile that he believed.

"Her fluid levels are beginning to level out," Kes said. "She needs quite a few more infusions for them to balance entirely, but they're improving. Her breathing rate is returning to normal. Her pulse is leveling out, and her blood pressure is beginning to make the shift back toward what we want it to be."

"In short," the doctor offered, "the selected course of treatment is having the desired effect."

"I'm starting to feel much better," Kathryn ceded.

Kathryn was not one to complain. In fact, she was one that was almost stoically "fine" to a fault. Chakotay always imagined her to be the kind of person who might be found holding one of her severed limbs and declaring that she didn't need medical attention. She fought against most kinds of attention, for herself, and almost always tried to deflect any attention onto someone else.

She was notorious for not taking care of her body. She neglected meals more often than anyone should, and Chakotay had worried, since he'd met her, that she ignored the fact that her body could not run on coffee alone. There were many times he convinced her simply to sip a glass of water if she refused everything else. She hardly slept, putting in hours that might be acceptable for a species like a Vulcan, but were simply too much for a human. And she was practically a professional at skipping her required medical check ups until she was nearly brought in under threat of the doctor temporarily relieving her of her position as captain.

When they'd entered sickbay this time, though, she hadn't argued or fought with anyone. She'd immediately recounted her symptoms, and she'd turned herself over for treatment—even asking for Chakotay's help instead of merely accepting it or having to be forced into accepting it.

She'd been more than happy to let Kes step away to treat the few wounded that came in—the majority of Voyager's crew members seeming to have stepped away from their conflict with the Kazon physically unharmed—but she hadn't pretended, not even for a moment, that she wasn't among the wounded and wasn't in need of her own share of medical attention.

Her only real request was that they put her mind at ease by scanning the baby—a request that, in all honesty, tugged at something deep inside Chakotay, as well as surprising him. Assured that the baby appeared stable, she gave permission to the EMH to do whatever he deemed best to guarantee that she recovered and the little one stayed well.

"The baby?" Kathryn asked after Kes's latest scan.

Chakotay smiled to himself. He felt her brush her face against his chest where it rested—he felt her nuzzle against him. The pain medication may have been just a little to blame for her affection, but he liked to believe that great deal of it came from simply having the EMH's explicit permission to behave like any couple might under similar circumstances.

"The readings show that the baby is fine," Kes said. "Heart rate remains strong and normal."

"The baby doesn't even know what's going on," Chakotay offered. "You're taking such good care of it."

Kathryn laughed quietly.

"It's just too small," Kathryn said.

"The baby is protected," the doctor offered, "and the mother's body is repairing itself well, given the circumstances. Do I have to order the two days of rest that I would like you to take, Captain, or will you take the time to fully recuperate without me having to issue a direct order?"

Kathryn laughed quietly, and Chakotay dared to let his hands trail down the lower part of her arms and find her hands. She intertwined her small fingers with his.

"I don't know the extent of the damage on the ship," Kathryn said. "I don't know what we may find as we're leaving Kazon space. I don't suppose there's any way I can take those two days off in a few days, is there, Doctor?"

Chakotay turned his hands to squeeze her fingers and massage her hands. He stepped away, just enough to give her the room to tip her head to the side, as Kes approached with another timed infusion of fluids, electrolytes, and vitamins that would help her body replenish everything it had lost in the fight against severe and widespread burns.

"I'm afraid not," the doctor said. "Captain—you and your little one are going to make a full recovery, but that doesn't mean that my assessment of the situation couldn't be wrong under different circumstances. Whether or not you're feeling the full effects of it, your body has been through a serious trauma. You're going to need time to recover from that, and to rebuild your strength. You may straighten your position, now, to allow me to make sure that I haven't missed anything."

Kathryn grimaced when Chakotay helped her straighten her spine.

"I was teasing, mostly, Doctor," Kathryn said. "I understand. Short of emergency, I'm willing to accept the two days without putting up much of a fight."

"Even in the case of emergency," Chakotay offered, "I think we're going to be able to handle things for two days, Kathryn. Besides, it might do you good to start learning how to delegate some tasks and to rest."

"The Commander is correct," the doctor offered. "You're going to have to start listening to your body, Captain. Very soon it will be making more demands of you than you have probably imagined in the past. The skin has all been repaired. I've done the best I can with the muscles, ligaments, and other tissues. Still, I prescribe two days of absolute rest followed by a slow return to normal activities. You will likely have some discomfort as your body continues the healing process. Your muscles are likely to be sore and, perhaps, rather tight."

"I can feel that," Kathryn agreed, stretching her back slightly.

"Is there anything we can do to make things more comfortable?" Chakotay asked.

Clearly satisfied with the condition of Kathryn's back, the doctor walked around and, taking the place that Kes normally occupied when she was administering something to Kathryn, he began scanning Kathryn.

"The same things you would do for any tight or sore muscles," the doctor offered. "Warm baths to relax the muscles, moisturizer for the healing and regenerated skin, gentle massage…nothing the captain should find too objectionable. Though you should be sure to keep the temperature of your water from being too hot. It can cause complications with your pregnancy."

"Duly noted," Kathryn offered.

Chakotay accepted the replicated uniform that Kes brought to replace the one that the captain had lost.

"Well, how am I now, Doctor?" Kathryn asked.

"You still need some time for everything to return to normal," the doctor said. "However, you're well on your way to recovery. Kes is going to program the replicator to produce the fluid infusion that you require. Your fluid levels are evening out, but I'm still going to request that you take the preparation every half hour for the next four hours, and then every hour for the following eight hours. After that, I will pay a visit to your quarters to see how things are going."

Chakotay offered Kathryn her uniform. He helped her get dressed, but it was evident that she didn't need his help in the same way she had when they'd first come into sickbay. The fluid, in particular, was helping with a great deal of the dizziness and disorientation that Kathryn had begun to feel from the burns.

There was relatively little privacy in the open-concept sickbay. They'd shared the space with the wounded that had come in, from time to time, for treatment, but it had been some time since anyone had needed anything. They were reminded, though, that the space was open and communal, when Daryl and Carol came through the sickbay doors as Kathryn was finishing dressing.

"Is something wrong?" Kathryn asked, immediately concerned.

"We're fine," Daryl offered. "Doc—just when you got a minute?"

"I have a minute now, Mr. Dixon," the doctor offered.

Daryl patted one of the biobeds and gestured to Carol to climb up. She didn't seem to even need the suggestion.

"Take your time," Daryl said. "Swear—we ain't in no hurry. Just—wantin' a little peace of mind."

"I seem to specialize in that these days," the doctor offered.

"Kathryn—are you OK?" Carol asked.

Kathryn smiled. While they were still in sickbay, and knowing that Daryl and Carol wouldn't be offended by the affection after their time on the planet together, Chakotay dropped his arm around Kathryn's shoulder. She leaned into him, and he thought that Carol might be able to see that Kathryn's eyes, if studied close enough, gave away the fact that she was under the influence of a great deal of fatigue mixed with a dose of pain medication that they were assured was safe for their growing baby.

"I'm much better now," Kathryn offered.

"The burns were pretty serious," Chakotay offered. "But—they're healed now."

"I told Chakotay about Seska's baby," Kathryn said. "Or—the doctor did."

Chakotay had hardly heard much about Seska's baby. As soon as the doctor had assured him that there was no possible way that it was his biological offspring, his attention had turned fully to the woman he loved and to the child that he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was his biological child.

"About that…" Daryl said.

Chakotay felt Kathryn tense and he tightened his hold on her. He led her around the biobed toward the one where Carol was sitting. She was headed there, anyway, even if she didn't know that's where her feet were going.

"Did something happen to it?" Kathryn asked.

Daryl rested his hand on Carol's thigh and stepped a little between them. Chakotay doubted that he even knew he'd made the move. It was simply in his nature, if possible, to put himself between Carol and absolutely anything that he thought might even make her uncomfortable.

"We let it go," Daryl said.

"You let it go?" Kathryn asked. "What do you mean?"

"One of the Kazon soldiers came," Carol said. "He said that the baby was—the Maje's son. He would be honored and cared for in the memory of the Maje. Apparently, this soldier was one of the higher ranking Kazons. He said he was likely to be the next Maje. He didn't want to fight. He only wanted…"

"He said he'd take the kid for himself," Daryl offered when Carol's voice broke off like she'd just decided not to finish the statement. "He'd raise it like his own. Teach it to be a good Kazon or whatever. We figured—it was better off with its people. You know? They know all about it. What it eats an' how…how it lives."

Chakotay squeezed the upper part of Kathryn's arm just before she stepped away from him and walked toward Carol. The doctor was already scanning Carol when Kathryn's hand found Carol's. Daryl stepped aside to let her into the space, clearly not viewing her as a threat.

"I know you wanted to keep him," Kathryn offered.

Carol gave her a smile and shrugged her shoulders.

"He really is better with his people," Carol said.

"Is that how you feel, being here?" Kathryn asked.

Carol clearly clasped Kathryn's hand in hers. She offered Kathryn a more sincere smile than before.

"I think—you are our people," Carol said.

Kathryn nodded, smiling to herself.

"I think you're right," Kathryn assured her. "Doctor? How is she?"

"You are in perfect health, Mrs. Dixon," the doctor offered to Carol. "Your blood pressure is a touch higher than it normally is, but that's entirely to be expected, given the circumstances. It should return to normal shortly, provided that you rest."

"The baby OK?" Daryl asked.

"The baby is in equally perfect health," the doctor assured him.

"So, you got no—prescription or nothin'," Daryl said, his statement falling somewhere between a question and a declaration. He allowed himself to be scanned, much like Chakotay had, as simply one of those acts that must be accepted when in sickbay. The doctor put his tricorder away almost immediately, showing clearly that he had no concerns to even voice.

"I would prescribe the same thing that I've prescribed for the captain," the doctor said, "if for no other reason than it simply can do no harm. Two days of uninterrupted rest and relaxation, followed by a slow return to normal activity." The EMH turned to Kathryn. "Understood, Captain?"

Kathryn smiled.

"Aye, aye, Doctor," she offered. "Am I dismissed."

"Two days," the doctor said, directing the words toward Carol, who was just sliding off the biobed.

"Aye," she said, with a quiet laugh. It was clear that she was simply testing the confirmation to see how it tasted on her tongue.

"Then you're both dismissed," the doctor said. "Captain, Commander, Kes will program the replicators. Remember your fluid regimen and I'll check with you tomorrow."

They all thanked the doctor, and Chakotay touched his hand to Kathryn's back—relieved to finally find it free of serious injury—as they all walked out of sickbay to find out what would absolutely have to be done for the four of them to be able to settle in and truly take the doctor's advice.


	56. Chapter 56

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"Hey—come here," Daryl said.

Carol laughed to herself because, in reality, it was Daryl that was coming to her. She was in bed, already tucked in with a book on one of the handheld screens that Kes had showed her how to manage so that she could select and download a great number of books to read from the computer's vast library. She wasn't going anywhere. It was Daryl that came toward the bed and sat down on the edge of it, leaning near her, and dropped the disc into place on her abdomen as she reclined against her pillow.

Immediately, the sound of a rapid little heartbeat filled the air around them. Carol reached her hand toward Daryl, holding the PADD out to the side to allow him more room, and he leaned over her to capture her lips with a kiss. He smiled at her when the kiss broke.

"Our alien's alright," Carol mused.

"Doc said he was," Daryl offered. "But I figured…"

"I like to hear it for myself," Carol confirmed. She didn't move the disc away, and Daryl didn't suggest it, either. They were both content to have the heartbeat of the baby thundering away as the background to their conversation.

"It was amazin' what the hell you done for everybody," Daryl offered. "You know, if it weren't for you…"

"Then Kathryn would've figured out what to do," Carol said. "And B'Elanna would've handled the Kazons that got in her way. They would have handled it if I wasn't there. But I was there so—I did my part."

Daryl somewhat nodded his head.

"I just wanna—make sure you're OK," Daryl said.

Carol sucked in a breath and held it. She didn't want to rush into answering him. She didn't want to give him some knee-jerk response that wasn't accurate. The answer to that very simple question had changed a few dozen times, it seemed, in the span of—how long had it been? A day? Carol wanted to carefully consider her response, because she wanted the answer that she gave Daryl to be the most accurate answer that she could possibly give him.

For just a second, she closed her eyes and smiled to herself as she drank in the sound of the baby's strong and rapid heartbeat.

She breathed out the air that she'd been holding in. The breath seemed to take the last of the tension she'd been carrying. Exhausted, she sunk back into the pillow and yawned.

"I'm fine," she said. "Honestly," she added quickly, when Daryl made an expression that said he clearly didn't believe her. She considered her feelings again and nodded her head. "I mean it. I'm fine. Now. I was terrified. When I thought about those aliens hurting us. I thought about—what they might do to everyone here and I realized…Daryl? I think I realized that I'm really starting to care about the people here. I'm really starting to feel like they're our people."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"They are," he offered. "Our people and our—our Klingons, and our possum-men."

Carol smiled.

"He's a Talaxian, Daryl," Carol said.

"I know," Daryl admitted. "I just like the way your face looks when you're remindin' me of that."

"I couldn't stand the idea of the Kazons hurting any of them," Carol admitted. "I didn't want anyone to get hurt."

"You never do," Daryl agreed.

"They were going to take the babies," Carol said. Daryl shook his head.

"Don't'cha make that face," Daryl said. "It's all in the past. It's only what they said. But they're better'n gone now and the baby's still here. You hear it, don't you? Just fine. Never even knew his mama was dissectin' Kazons to get 'em to leave him the hell alone."

Carol smiled. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. She thought she heard something on the machine, maybe, as it worked to sort out the sounds of her body from the sounds of the life that she carried inside of her. She took the disc, satisfied with the knowledge that the little life was well, and turned it off before she moved it to the bedside table. Daryl's hand, almost immediately, rested where the disc had been only moments before.

"You said 'he,' Daryl," Carol offered. "Does that mean you think he's a boy?"

Daryl smiled to himself and shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe I do," Daryl said. "You said 'baby.' Does that mean you're ready to—find out what he is? Think of him as more than an alien?"

Carol readjusted herself, but she didn't push Daryl's hand away. In fact, she covered his hand with her own.

"I already thought of him as more than an alien," Carol said. "I never thought he was an alien—not since the doctor said he wasn't a parasite. I think, in the beginning, it just made it easier."

"Now you don't need that no more," Daryl said, the words coming out somewhere between a question and an assertion.

"I don't need it, but I still like to think of him as our little alien," Carol said. Daryl patted her stomach, and she drummed her fingers on top of his.

"Then that's OK, then," Daryl said. "You think—you ready to know if he's really a he or if…if he's a she?" Carol's stomach churned and she rearranged herself again. "You gettin' squirmy," Daryl offered. "If you ain't ready, that's fine. It don't matter either way. And you don't have to find out for me. I'm content to just think whatever we're thinking—week to week, even—until the day the doc just hands him over to me for the first time."

"I'm sorry," Carol said. "It's just that—if I think about it too hard? I start to feel…like I can't breathe. I want to know. And I'll be ready…I think I'll be ready soon, but…"

"But you ain't there yet," Daryl finished for her. "And it don't matter a damn bit. I swear it."

Carol sucked in a breath and let it out.

"Holding that baby today," Carol said, "really made me think about…how much I want him."

"You mean—the Kazon?"

"No, our alien," Carol said with a smile. "I meant—just having him in my arms. It made me think how much I miss that. How much I want that. Desperately, Daryl. I want it…so much."

"It won't be too long," Daryl said. "What? Seven or eight months?" Carol nodded her head.

"I want—if you're not opposed to it," Carol said, "I want to do what the doctor offered. Just in case we want to talk about what happens later. Just in case we might want to consider more, and we might need a little help. I know we might not have more and you might not even want more, but…"

Daryl shushed her. He smiled at her. He touched her face and held her eyes with his. Her pulse had picked up. She could feel the drumming in her chest. She could also feel it as it started to slow under the gentle touch.

"I wanna do it, too," Daryl assured her. "If you want to. I mean—it's more your choice than mine."

"No," Carol said quickly. "No. I don't want—mine or yours…or…Daryl? If we're going to do this? If we're going to…" She broke off and laughed to herself over their situation. "If we're going to raise babies on spaceship during our—ridiculously long lives together? I don't want it to be mine or your decision. I want it to be our decision. The whole thing. Everything about it."

"Will be," Daryl assured her. "Mine and yours. We'll just—figure it out together. We're gonna need to do it all together. I sure don't know how to do this on my own."

"Me either," Carol said. "But we'll—do OK together. Right? With all of this?"

"I think we're all ready doin' pretty damned good, woman," Daryl said. "And I'm with you. A hundred percent. Tomorrow, if you want—if you ready? We'll talk to the doc about the whole freezing thing and just find out how it goes. Make a decision from there or go ahead and do it, whatever you want. And—I'm sayin' that just 'cause it's your body, OK? Not like I ain't in this or I won't help you decide or whatever. Just sayin' if you don't feel like it, then we wait until you feel like it. OK?"

Carol nodded.

"Come to bed?" Carol asked.

"I'm comin'," Daryl assured her. "But—as long as we're makin' plans and…this is like the start of a whole thing and all?"

Carol's stomach churned. She felt it tightening like it was tangling around itself. She could sense something coming in Daryl's words, though she didn't know what or even why she could feel it.

"What's wrong?" Carol asked.

"Nothin's wrong," Daryl said. "Just—if they do that kind of thing now, and all…we'd have to ask…but…you think you might wanna marry me? Somethin' official?"

Carol smiled to herself.

"Like a wedding?" She asked. Daryl nodded his head. "You want to officially marry me?"

"Just somethin' for everybody to know it's real," Daryl said.

"I think—I couldn't think of anything that would make me happier," Carol assured him.

"Good," Daryl said, leaning to kiss her again. She gave him the kiss he wanted, and she made it even more than what he specifically requested. She couldn't help but smile at him when he pulled out of the kiss.

"Daryl? Come to bed."

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"Oh—oh! Right there! Oh!" Kathryn declared. Chakotay swallowed down his laughter, but his kneading stopped a moment as he got control of himself. Kathryn sighed.

"You're going to kill me, Kathryn, if you don't stop making all those sounds," Chakotay assured her. "I told you I thought we should take it easy for tonight, but you might have me going against my own better judgement."

"It's just so wonderful," Kathryn said with a sigh. She relaxed into the mattress, and Chakotay returned to kneading her back muscles. There was something wonderful, to him, about having Kathryn Janeway so entirely relaxed—so completely under his control—and knowing that his touch was what had made her that way. "Your hands are magic."

"If you think my hands can work magic," Chakotay teased, "then you ought to see what else I can do."

"I'd love to," Kathryn said, lifting her head just enough to smirk at him. "But you put everything else off limits."

Chakotay laughed to himself. He playfully pushed her head back down so that she'd relax again.

"Until morning, Kathryn," Chakotay said. "Just until morning. I think it's important that you rest a little. And I know you well enough to know that you'll definitely exert yourself if I agree to anything more than just a massage."

"Morning?" Kathryn asked.

"First thing, if you want," Chakotay said.

"Computer," Kathryn said, "let me know when it's 0100 hours."

"Confirmed," the computer announced.

Kathryn grinned somewhat devilishly in Chakotay's direction, but he wasn't going to argue with her. The truth was, he had no desire whatsoever to argue with her. He wanted to be with her more than he wanted most anything else. He still thought, though, that it would be best if she at least got a little rest before she put her body through any more exertion—even if it was exertion that both of them found desirable.

They were in the quarters that Chakotay had called home before he'd moved in with Kathryn. The quarters were comfortable enough for a night, and it was necessary to spend at least one night outside of the rooms they'd been calling their home.

There was a small crew doing clean up in an attempt to return Kathryn's quarters to what they had been before the death of Maje Culluh, Seska, and some number, unknown to Chakotay, of Culluh's warriors. They couldn't work magic, though, and they would need time to clean the quarters.

"I always wanted to have you in my bed," Chakotay teased, working his hands down Kathryn's body and feeling her ribcage under his fingers.

"What did you want to do to me in your bed, Chakotay?" Kathryn asked. Chakotay smiled to himself.

"Ask me that again at 0100 hours, and I'll show you," he said.

"I'll hold you to your word," Kathryn assured him. "Oh—right there…oh…"

Chakotay worked the spot she'd indicated, adding it to his mental list of places to return to as he completed his cycle, time and again, of removing the knots and snares from Kathryn's muscles.

"I think tomorrow we might—tell the crew about the baby," Chakotay said.

Kathryn laughed quietly. Her whole body shook beneath Chakotay's fingers.

"I think everybody knows by now," Kathryn said.

"I don't think that's the case," Chakotay said. "Mostly it was just senior officers that were present."

"Even with everything that was going on, Chakotay, Voyager's a small ship," Kathryn said.

"Nobody said anything to me about it in the cargo bay. Honestly—with everything else going on? We didn't talk about it. It's possible it never even had time to register for anyone," Chakotay pressed.

"And now it'll have plenty of time to register for everyone," Kathryn said. "Before the Delta shift starts, you can rest assured that everyone's going to know."

"You should still announce it, Kathryn. You should make a formal announcement. Tell them everything you wanted to say about—about the fact that we're expecting. That we're thrilled to be announcing this new little life. That we hope that—that our child will find family in every member of Voyager's crew, just like we have."

Kathryn lifted her face to smile at him, sleepily, before she lowered her face again and hummed. She was getting tired. It wouldn't take long before he'd lull her to sleep, and he could tuck her in by gently pulling the blanket over her body. He could know that she was getting the rest that he felt she desperately needed.

"I guess I should make the announcement for everyone," Kathryn said with a soft sigh. "So everyone feels like—they get what they should, right? A formal announcement."

"Maybe it's not even them that I'm worried about, Kathryn," Chakotay said. Kathryn hummed at him in question, and he continued his work, letting his fingers trail over her body and search out points of discomfort and tension. "You're a new mother-to-be, Kathryn, and you deserve to make your announcement—every bit as much as they deserve to hear it. I'm sorry I took it from you at all, but…I did what I thought was best. But, no matter what? Even if you feel like…nobody's listening? Someone will listen. And I want you to have the chance to make your announcement."

Kathryn smiled, this time to herself. She looked too tired—or too relaxed—to lift her head. This time, her eyelids barely fluttered, and they didn't make it open. She sighed.

"You take good care of me," she offered.

Chakotay leaned, pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades before he kissed the side of her face. Her breathing was evening out. Slowly, she was slipping away from him to what he hoped was the sweetest place her mind could create for her. She'd be back with him within a few hours. Until then, he'd be content to spend the time beside her while they both dreamed.

"I try my best," he assured her, almost certain that she was too far away to hear him.


	57. Chapter 57

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Chakotay was almost certain that Kathryn Janeway had never looked more endearing or adorable than she looked in that moment. It wasn't fair, perhaps, to call her adorable when she was commanding a Starship, threatening aliens that tried to bully her or her crew, or otherwise keeping things under control, but it felt right to call her adorable when she stood before him, in her nightgown, wringing her hands.

Her cheeks were pink, and her expression was trapped somewhere between a smile and absolute panic.

Chakotay caught her hands. He squeezed them in his, working some of the tension from them. He pulled her to him, rested his chin on her head, and held her against him for a few moments without even bothering with words.

He felt the moment that she finally relaxed a little. He felt her muscles release some of their tension. He felt her sink into the hug. He smiled to himself when she drew in the deep breath, purposefully, and let it out in a loud and satisfied sigh. And he held her, a few moments after he felt her relax, just to be sure that the anxiety didn't invade again the moment that she was free from his arms.

Chakotay squeezed her shoulders as he pulled out of the hug. She looked visibly more relaxed, but the nervous smile was still on her lips and she regarded him with wide eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it some more?" Chakotay asked.

"Starfleet would never approve," Kathryn said.

"Starfleet is in the Alpha Quadrant," Chakotay said. "Frankly Kathryn, and at the risk of offending you? I don't give a damn about Starfleet if they're determined to stand in the way of my family and my family's happiness."

The slight smile on her lips tugged her mouth a little further upward in a quick show of pleasure over the words.

"It's my job to be the captain," Kathryn said. "My entire purpose is to guide this crew and get them home safely."

"That's your on-duty purpose, Kathryn," Chakotay said. "That's what some people call your job. It's not your life, and it's not your entire purpose. There is more to Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway than simply being a captain."

"They have expectations of me, Chakotay," Kathryn said.

"And you meet and exceed every single one of their expectations," Chakotay said. "You—give everything you have to this crew, Kathryn. And they love and appreciate you for it. You also told them, though, the importance of having a multi-generational ship. Do you remember that? It's important to the very survival of all of us. You also told them that you would never ask them to sacrifice everything in their personal lives, and you wanted them to live their lives to the fullest in their off-duty hours."

"I meant that," Kathryn said.

"I know you did," Chakotay said. "And now you're leading by example. You've already told them about our relationship, and they accepted that. They congratulated us. The next natural step is a child, Kathryn. Some of them may even be waiting for it—expecting it. Before they dedicate themselves to having a child, they might want to see that it's…I don't even know…that it's possible. It's a way of life that they can pursue here in the Delta Quadrant. You're their captain—leading them by example."

"It's so small, Chakotay," Kathryn said. "It's hardly even there."

"But it's there," Chakotay assured her.

He had lost count of how many times they'd been through these arguments—all of which came to her throughout the day and night like little jolts of panic—lightning strikes of worry. It was part of the settling in phase, Chakotay had decided. He had nothing at all to base his thoughts on. They were rooted only in his gut feelings, but he felt that Kathryn simply had to go through these worries and concerns and she settled into the realization that she was carrying a child, and she was destined to be a mother.

As the moment of announcing her pregnancy to the crew approached, and she faced fully admitting to everyone that surrounded her that the baby was real and she was facing this change—this great transition—in her life, Kathryn's anxiety grew.

And with each surge of growing anxiety rising up in Kathryn, Chakotay felt another wave of peace flow through him. She could handle this. He was sure of that. She could handle anything that the world threw at her—no matter where she was in the universe. She would handle motherhood with all the grace and strength that she used to handle most everything else. She just needed to get through the growing pains of the settling in phase and, perhaps, a few other aftershocks that might come, here and there, as her pregnancy progressed.

As sure as Chakotay felt that Kathryn could handle this, he felt sure that he could get her through it. He could get her through anything. He wouldn't admit it to her, but she clearly needed him, for the moment, even if it was just for emotional strength that he could offer her—and he was enjoying the feeling of being needed by Kathryn.

"What if it's too soon?" Kathryn asked.

"We might have talked about it being too soon before the Kazon," Chakotay said, "but I'm afraid that I let the cat out of the bag. I ruined that for you, Kathryn. And I'm sorry. I stole, from you, the chance to choose the moment that was best for you."

"Oh," Kathryn said, a great deal of feeling escaping her in such a simple sound. She stepped forward and touched Chakotay's face affectionately. "No. You didn't take anything from me." She smiled at him and raised her eyebrows. "The Kazon might have, but you didn't do anything wrong."

"It's such a simple thing," Chakotay admitted, "but it makes me hate Seska even more to know that, because of her—because of her teaming up with the Kazon to always try to get whatever would benefit her the most— they took your chance to do this your way. How you want and when you're ready." He shook his head at her. "There's nothing I can do to give that back to you, and…honestly? That hurts me."

"I guess…you'll just have to promise me there's a next time," Kathryn offered.

Chakotay felt an inexplicable warmth flood his chest.

"As many times as you want," he assured her. "But it won't be the same, will it? It won't be the first time."

Kathryn shrugged her shoulders.

"Maybe it won't be the same for everyone else," she said. "Maybe—the second or third time…or even the fourth, right?" Chakotay smiled to himself and nodded, catching on to her teasing over their previous discussions that she thought that four children would be perfect—enough to be a large family, too few to be an overwhelming sized family, and just enough that there was no actual middle child. "Maybe all the ones after this aren't exciting to anyone else. They just shrug and say—they're having another baby. But the next one will be special to me. Because it'll be the first time that I get to decide exactly how I want to say it, even if I know that nobody's listening." She laughed to herself. "They're probably not listening now. You know the rumor has spread through the ship already. I bet if I were to step outside those doors, three people would ask me about it before I could reach the turbolift."

Chakotay smiled at her.

"Then you owe the announcement to that one person, somewhere on the ship, that eschews gossip and hasn't heard," Chakotay said. "Announce it to them."

"Who would that be?" Kathryn asked with a laugh. Chakotay shrugged his shoulders.

"Ensign…Vanderbilt," he said. "That dark-headed ensign from Minnesota that's always nervous when you speak to her. The one that eats alone, most of the time, in the mess hall."

Kathryn smiled to herself.

"She's in engineering," Kathryn offered. Chakotay nodded. "She's always reading something." He nodded again.

"She hardly talks to anyone," Chakotay said. "B'Elanna said she prefers to keep her head down, but she does good work. She just doesn't fraternize very much. But she's always excited when you know her name."

Kathryn smiled sincerely.

"She's sweet," Kathryn said. "Young, but dedicated. Enthusiastic."

"She'll be happy to hear about Captain Janeway's baby," Chakotay said.

"And Commander Chakotay's baby," Kathryn added with just a touch of fake indignation. Chakotay nodded his approval of the addition.

"I'm sure nobody's told her yet," Chakotay said. "So—even if you think nobody cares or nobody's listening? Ensign Vanderbilt, in engineering, is listening."

Kathryn laughed to herself. She reached for Chakotay and hugged him tightly. He returned the hug and rubbed her back, letting her linger in his arms for as long as she wanted and needed. They had plenty of time. Kathryn was under doctor's orders to be off-duty, and she was following the doctor's rules better than she normally did. There was more at stake now, after all, than there had been before.

"Can I be honest with you, Chakotay?" Kathryn asked when she pulled out of the hug. She padded away from him, on bare feet, and he followed her to the replicator where she requested decaf coffee that she could sit and sip.

"I hope like hell that's a rhetorical question, Kathryn," Chakotay said. "Otherwise—I'm not sure what we've been doing. I might have to question everything about our relationship."

She smiled just before she put the coffee cup to her lips and tasted the warm liquid. She hummed in satisfaction.

"Don't, please," she said. "I only meant—I guess it was rhetorical." She walked over and sat down on the couch of the living area that had once belonged to Chakotay, and he followed, sitting beside her. Later that day, they would move back to their quarters. They would go and resettle into their lives and their "home" on Voyager. She wanted to wait, though, until she'd made the announcement before either of them emerged from Chakotay's old quarters.

Kathryn didn't want to be congratulated for what she hadn't officially announced yet. Chakotay was in no hurry to go anywhere, and he was fine with indulging her. He would have been happy to share any space with her.

Kathryn leaned her head against him for a moment before she returned to sipping her coffee. The hand not holding the mug trailed down and she rested her palm over her stomach.

"I think I'm most afraid that—if I make this announcement now, I'll have to make one later that I really don't want to make," Kathryn said. She laughed nervously to herself, and it came out as little more than a loudly exhaled breath. "I didn't know if I wanted to do this at first. I didn't know if we should try to do this. But every day that I spend knowing that—it's there? I feel like I get closer to it. It becomes, somehow, more important. More real than it was the day before. I know that's ridiculous."

"It's not ridiculous," Chakotay assured her. He pressed his hand over hers. She smiled at him, clearly enjoying the gesture. "Every day that I know it's there, it's more important to me, as well. Maybe that's the way it works at this stage."

"I also know that the likelihood that it'll just go away," Kathryn said, "because it was too weak to stay or…because of some other reason? I know that likelihood is pretty high for at least five more weeks. That's an announcement that I don't want to make, Chakotay."

"Why don't we just make this announcement for now?" Chakotay asked. "The happy one. And let's not worry about the other, OK? Not unless we have a reason to. You're healthy, Kathryn. Very healthy. You're strong. It's healthy. The heartbeat is good. Everything checks out. You'll follow the doctor's orders, carefully, and you'll be as careful as you can. But—for today? Let's focus on just making this announcement."

Kathryn smiled to herself. The smile had barely left her face for most of the morning. Her cheeks were probably sore from holding it so long. She'd retained a hint of the pink blush on those very same cheeks since she'd woken, knowing that this was the morning when she was going to make their news official. The smile on her lips made Chakotay's chest feel full. With each passing moment, he grew more and more aware of exactly how much he loved this woman. If he'd had any doubts at all, they were gone now.

"For Ensign Vanderbilt?" She asked, teasing him.

"For Ensign Vanderbilt," Chakotay said, nodding his head. He produced her combadge from his pocket and offered it over to her. She toyed with it, holding it in her palm, for a moment. Then she activated it and requested that a ship wide channel be opened.

"This is Captain Janeway," she said. "I know that many of you have probably heard rumors. Voyager is our home, but she's a small ship—all things considered. And I know that many of you have probably wondered about the veracity of these rumors. I wanted to address the rumors for everyone at one time. I have spoken to you all about—continuing our lives aboard Voyager. We are building a future, even as we journey home. We're not putting our lives on hold, and I would never ask you to do that. I hope you will extend the same courtesy to me. As you know, Commander Chakotay and I have been in a relationship since we were living on the alien planet that we called New Earth. It is with great…great…happiness that I announce to you all, today, that we are working toward building that future on Voyager on which we will all rely. We don't know, yet, if our addition to the future will be a boy or a girl. We don't know much about him, or her, except that they're healthy and growing. That's all we're asking for at this time. I look forward to sharing this experience with all of you. And I look forward to seeing our little one grow among the family that I know they'll find on Voyager. As always, if you have concerns, or questions, or you simply want to chat? My door is always open to all of you. Janeway out."

Kathryn looked at him, with expectation, when she ended the announcement and closed the line.

Chakotay kissed her quickly and softly. He erased most of her concerns with the simple kiss. The rest he erased with a word.

"Perfect."


	58. Chapter 58

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here. **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"You're sure it's safe?" Daryl asked. He knew that the doctor was annoyed with him, and he knew that he'd already asked the question once before, but seeing him arranging tools and materials, the purposes of which Daryl couldn't even begin to imagine, on a little table next to Carol was starting to make him nervous.

There was a curtain surrounding them for privacy, Carol was dressed in a hospital gown and a blanket was draped over her so that her whole middle was visible to everyone. And this was starting to feel like something that simply made Daryl uncomfortable and worried.

"I'm certain it's as safe as it can be, Daryl," the doctor said, his programming finally reminding him that Daryl would rather not spend the entire day being referred to as "Mr. Dixon."

"Yeah, but as safe as it can be don't necessarily mean it's safe. I mean—anything is as safe as it can be. Maybe you got some odds?"

"Daryl…" Carol said. From the bed where she seemed entirely relaxed, no matter how much preparation the doctor engaged in.

"There is approximately a two percent chance that anything could go wrong," the doctor said, "which would result in some sort of damage to either Carol or your baby. Is that specific enough to help calm your concerns."

"Two percent is still somethin'-could-happen percent," Daryl said.

"Carol has the same chance of stepping outside of sickbay and—and being attacked by a Bolian rajinherck—none of which are on board the ship. Very little in the world is impossible, even if it's highly unlikely."

Daryl furrowed his brow at the doctor.

"Yeah well, I don't know what the hell that thing you just mentioned is," Daryl said. "But I know this matters to me."

It was Kes that approached him, then, all smiles and looking like she intended to sprinkle him with fairy dust and happy flakes. She didn't sprinkle anything on him. Instead, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"The doctor is very concerned about the future of the little ones on Voyager," Kes said. "And he would never act in a way that's not best for his patients. I think what he's trying to say is that—there are risks to everything we do, but these aren't significant enough to worry about."

"That's exactly what he's trying to say, Daryl," Carol offered. "Come here. Hold my hand."

Daryl had promised her he'd be there to do just that. He broke away from Kes and took Carol's hand.

"You OK?" He asked. "You scared?"

Carol smiled at him and shook her head.

"I'm not scared at all. I'm—thrilled. We're making sure our family can grow, Daryl. If that's what we want."

"That's precisely what you're doing," the doctor said. "I think we're ready to begin. Whenever you're ready, Carol…"

"Does it hurt?" Daryl asked. Carol hadn't even asked the question. It had been the least of her concerns. She'd simply wanted to know if it would hurt the baby and, hearing that it wouldn't, she'd seemed content to ask no more questions.

"It won't hurt at all," the doctor assured Daryl, turning his head to assure Carol, as well. "There may be some cramping afterward, but we'll be prescribing you a gentle muscle relaxer to keep that from being problematic or even too uncomfortable."

"That won't hurt the baby?" Carol asked.

"The cramping shouldn't be severe enough to be problematic," the doctor said. "The medicine should keep any cramping under control, and isn't harmful to the fetus—the baby. The worst you may experience is some possible mild discomfort, of which your baby will be unaware."

"I'm getting nervous now," Carol admitted.

"You sure you wanna do it?" Daryl asked. "You don't gotta, OK?"

"I'm sure," Carol said. "We won't have to worry. It'll be there whenever we're ready—if we're ready…"

"So long as you're sure," Daryl said.

"I'm sure," Carol said with a laugh. "I'm just—nervous."

"There's no need to be nervous," Kes assured her. The little Ocampa had a sweet voice and Daryl thought it was a good idea to have her in sickbay. Something about her very tone made things better. "Just relax." Kes picked up a hypospray from the collection of items on the tray. "This will help you relax. Everything's perfectly safe for your baby. I promise."

"What is that?" Daryl asked.

"It's a light sedative," the doctor said. "Carol, you'll still be conscious. It will only help to ensure that everyone—mama and baby, both—is relaxed throughout the procedure."

"Will you tell me what you're doing?" Carol asked.

It clearly didn't take long for the sedative to hit Carol's bloodstream. She closed her eyes, a moment, like she might actually simply take a nap. Daryl didn't assume it was a terrible thing if she decided to do just that. She opened her eyes, though, and watched the screen where an image appeared after the doctor rested a disc on her stomach.

"You can see—if I move this," the doctor said, "then I can see your baby. You see it, there?"

Carol sat up and smiled at the image. Daryl thought it looked remarkably like an alien, but he wasn't going to point that out at this particular moment.

"Is it OK?"

"Baby Dixon's heartbeat is strong," Kes answered, studying the information on the side of the image. Daryl assumed it did something like read the baby's vitals. "The computer registers you at just two days short of eleven weeks. Baby Dixon's weight is about .2 ounces, and the baby is about 1.7 inches in length."

"That good?" Daryl asked.

"The baby is a little underweight," the doctor offered.

"But that's nothing to worry about," Kes said. "And it's nothing that can't be remedied. Right, Doctor?"

"Of course, it can be remedied," the doctor said, almost sounding indignant. "I'm going to move the sensor again. Our focus, at this moment, is this area. You can see—here and here—that this sensor allows me to see your ovaries. I can increase the magnification—like this—and I'm able to see your ova. Using this tool, I will transfer them into the cryo-canister. Then, once Daryl has contributed his spermatozoa, the cannister will be frozen until you decide to combine the elements to create an embryo. The others will be held in stasis until you're ready for them. May I begin?"

"Please," Carol breathed out. Daryl could see that her eyelids were heavy, and her hand hung heavy in his. He appreciated, though, that she was entirely relaxed.

"It don't hurt?" Daryl asked Carol as the doctor started. Daryl watched the screen, and he could see something happening, though he didn't know what.

"It feels—fuzzy," Carol said.

The doctor seemed amused, and Kes laughed quietly.

"All the descriptions stated that, if the female of any species undergoing the transfer felt anything at all, it would be sensation like when you're coming out of the transporter," Kes offered.

"That's it," Carol said with a smile. She looked at Daryl and shook her head. "Don't look so worried, Daryl. It's like if your foot was asleep and waking up. Except—it's not my foot. It doesn't hurt. It just feels…"

"Fuzzy," Daryl offered. Carol smiled sincerely, and he was pretty sure that the sedative was making her feel fuzzy, if nothing else was. He squeezed her hand in his and she gently squeezed him back.

"How many goes in there?" Daryl asked, gesturing toward the small container that would hold everything for their future use.

"There are different sized cryo-canisters," the doctor offered. "Voyager's computers only had tested schematics for producing one size, so that's the size we're using. This one holds fifteen ova."

"So that's like—that's what? How many babies is that?" Daryl asked.

"It's potentially fifteen babies," the doctor offered.

"Fifteen?" Daryl looked at Carol. She looked just fine. Just as pleased as punch. She was smiling to herself, her arm thrown back behind her head. She was watching the doctor work without a single concern. It was the most at peace Daryl had seen her in a while. "You might wanna—put some of those back. I don't think we need…I think fifteen might be a few too many."

Carol laughed.

"They wouldn't all make it, Daryl," Carol said. "It's like—you know some of them won't, right?"

"That is correct," the doctor said. "It is highly unlikely for all fifteen to produce successful pregnancies."

"So, you get extra, Daryl, to make sure that some of them have a chance to make it. I knew a little something about fertilization treatments in our world, Doctor. Out of those—I could probably only maybe get pregnant…what…one time? Two?"

"Strictly speaking, there is the potential for fifteen pregnancies," the doctor said, seemingly enjoying his work and the opportunity to teach them something. "That would be assuming that all fertilization and implantation was successful. Over the years, especially since your time, before the Millennium Plague, the medical community has made great strides in fertilization. This is particularly owing to the extensive amount of work done to help our cross-species couples reproduce. Through that work, we've achieved a method of fertilizing same-species eggs that results in almost perfect results. Of course, in the earliest years, even though the fertilization process was almost perfect, the implantation process was a great deal trickier. Again, that's when the work of those who dedicated themselves to cross-species fertilization really came in handy. We have produced medications, now, that almost guarantee implantation."

"And that means what?" Daryl asked.

"It means that—given the current health of Carol's ova and your spermatozoa…"

"Could you not say that word no more?" Daryl interjected.

"I'm sorry? What word would that be?"

"The sperm word, OK? Could we just not talk about it? I really don't like that word."

"What word would you prefer?"

"I don't give a shit what you call it," Daryl said. "Just—not that word. I don't like the sound of it. And, to be perfectly frank, I know what the hell you're expecting to get from me, and just hearin' anybody say that word has me creating my own damn statistics that it's like a thousand times less likely to happen."

Carol snorted. At least he could give her that. Kes looked amused, as well, and her face ran red. Daryl assumed that Ocampas were enough like humans that they blushed. The doctor—probably because he was a hologram—was nonplussed.

"My apologies, Daryl. Perhaps we can find vocabulary that makes you more comfortable," he offered. "I was going to say that, given the current health of Carol's ova and your…contribution to the birth of your future children…and considering the normal rate of success we have with same species fertilization, I would predict that you could expect twelve or thirteen successful pregnancies from what we gather today. That is, of course, not factoring in any other conditions which may change those odds."

"You wantin' that many?" Daryl asked Carol.

"No," Carol said, drawing the word out and shaking her head. "No. No. Not—not twelve or thirteen."

"The unused ova and…other things…will remain in stasis," the doctor said.

"And then what?" Daryl asked.

"You can use them or discard them," the doctor said. "As you wish. They belong to you."

"Just throw our kids away?" Daryl asked.

Carol tugged at his fingers.

"It's no different than—when I have a period and it just means that wasn't a baby or when…you…and there's no baby," Carol said. She laughed to herself. "We're not mixing the ingredients up yet."

"Correct," the doctor agreed. "Nor will we mix anything until you're ready." He started putting things away on his little tray. "The collection is complete. Carol, how are you feeling?"

"I feel fine," Carol said. "Better than fine. I'm—actually feeling really good."

"That's the drugs," Daryl offered.

"Is that all?" Carol asked, sitting up just enough to look around her.

"Your part is complete," the doctor assured her. Kes took the little canister and walked off, clearly taking it somewhere for safe keeping. "We'll hold the ova in stasis for you until you're ready for them. Once Daryl has—made his contribution—then we'll place that in stasis, as well, in the same cryo-canister so that nothing can be confused in any way."

"Is my baby OK?" Carol asked.

The doctor moved the disc, bringing into focus the image that they'd seen before. Carol smiled and squeezed Daryl's hand.

"Baby Dixon appears to be the least concerned of all the Dixons, at the moment," the doctor said. Daryl smiled to himself. The hologram's programming, according to B'Elanna was adaptive and ever-changing. He was beginning to develop more and more of a sense of humor. Either that, or Daryl was simply adjusting to him.

The doctor loaded another hypospray and pressed it to Carol's neck. She didn't ask what it was, and she didn't seem concerned. She trusted him. That much was evident. She was also at least a little hypnotized by the fact that he hadn't taken away the image of their little one which seemed to float contentedly in nothing, according to the image, while it's little fluttering heart beat wildly.

"This is a preemptive measure," the doctor said. "The muscle relaxer should keep you from cramping and, in the case that you do experience cramping, it should keep it to a minimum. I'd like you to use it for forty-eight hours at eight-hour intervals."

"I understand," Carol said. "Do I need to do anything else?"

"You should have no problems," the doctor said. "And you have no restrictions beyond normal restrictions that I have given you for a woman in your condition. Nothing should cause you or your baby any distress. My only recommendation, perhaps, is that you allow Daryl to help you back to your quarters—partly because I believe it would benefit him to help you in some way, and partly because I would not wish for you to fall and potentially injure yourself or your baby. The combination of sedatives in your system may make you less than sure-footed for at least a little while longer.

"Thank you, Doctor," Carol said.

"I should remind you of one thing," the doctor said. "This procedure did not, in any way, remove all of your ova. That means that, after your baby is born, you will still be fertile. You'll need to decide how you want to proceed with fertility blockers. Your frozen ova are there for you, if you should like to control the process of fertilization and implantation, but you should be aware that you'll still be capable of natural and spontaneous gestation."

"In other words, you're sayin' accidents can still happen," Daryl offered.

"Precisely," the doctor said.

"If we're picking words we don't like," Carol offered, "that's one that I don't like."

The doctor removed the disc and went about cleaning up his area. Since they were free to go, other than Carol requiring Daryl's support while she got over feeling extra-relaxed, Daryl helped Carol sit up and supported her on the biobed. Kes had slipped back into the curtained space to take a few items for the doctor, and she'd replaced what she'd taken with Carol's clothes so that Daryl could help her start to dress. Thankfully, Carol had chosen a light dress—something easy to get in and out of—for this trip to sickbay.

"What word do you like better?" Daryl asked. "We didn't mean for you to get pregnant."

"Surprise," Carol said, a hint of pouting to her tone. "Blessing. Miracle. But not an accident."

Daryl could see that her earlier happiness was replaced by something a great deal heavier, and he didn't want that. He paused in helping her dress and caught her face in his hand.

"I like that," he told her, holding her eyes. "All those words. They're all right. They all explain our baby."

She smiled softly at him, and he kissed her gently.

The doctor cleared his throat, drawing their attention and purposefully reminding him that they weren't alone. He shook an opaque container at Daryl.

"Whenever you're ready, Daryl, you can bring this and Kes can add it to the cryo-canister."

Daryl felt heat rise up in his face, and he cleared his own throat.

"Yeah, thanks. And—uh—thanks for taking care of Carol and…the baby. Hell—and all of 'em, I guess."

"My pleasure," the doctor said with a smile. "Carol—here's your hypospray. You shouldn't have more than very mild discomfort. Nothing more than you would experience during menstruation. Anything more than that, and you should let me know."

"I will," Carol said. "Thank you, Doctor."

The doctor excused himself, and Daryl helped Carol get into her clothes. When he helped her stand up, she rocked a little on her feet, and he held her to make sure she wasn't going to topple in one direction or another.

"You good?" Daryl asked, slipping the hypospray into one pocket and the cup into another. "I got you. I'ma make sure you don't fall, but we can wait a minute if you need to. You OK?"

Carol smiled at him.

"I'm…amazing," she offered. She laughed to herself, like she was genuinely delighted by her own words. "Come on, Daryl. Let's go…round up your spermatozoa."

"I'm warnin' you," Daryl said, laughing to himself at how loopy she was with her bloodstream full of the doctor's drugs. "I hate that word, woman."

She laughed at him.

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry, Pookie. I couldn't resist."

"It's OK," he assured her, wrapping his arm around her and getting a comfortable hold on her before he took a step and let her begin the process of getting her sea legs through the happy fog of the sedatives. "You about the only person that can make it sound decent. Come on—don't get in too big a hurry. We got all damn day to stroll back to our quarters, and you know I love an excuse to hold onto you like this."


	59. Chapter 59

**AN: Here we are, another chapter here! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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The combination of a sedative, a muscle relaxer, and a day during which things were simply going well, created an atmosphere in which Carol actually became giggly. In Daryl's life, he'd never had too much patience for giggling girls or women—for silly girl-antics or anything of the sort—but he quickly became aware that, perhaps, that was because he'd never cared so much for the girls or women that were giggling.

Seeing Carol happy enough that she seemed incapable of containing her smile, even as she walked with him along the corridors of the ship, was enough to make Daryl feel like his heart might actually explode in his chest.

He knew, without a shadow of a doubt—punching in the code to enter their quarters and leading her inside as she leaned on him for support against her somewhat wobbly legs that were powered by her probably slightly fuzzy mind—that his happiness was directly linked to Carol's. Like some kind of symbiosis, he drew from her happiness, and he naturally felt lighter until he might have been easily convinced that the doctor had given him the same kind of medication that he'd given Carol.

Once they were inside their quarters, and the door was closed, Daryl turned Carol toward him, purposefully pulling her so that she would lose her very carefully maintained balance for a fraction of a second. She gasped, surprised by the motion and the feeling of falling, but immediately laughed when Daryl caught her and she could relax in the confidence that she wasn't going to fall.

He wouldn't let her fall.

She smiled at him, first with the closed mouth smile that came after her surprise, and then with a smile that spread all the way to her eyes. Daryl held her close to him.

"You're fuckin' gorgeous," Daryl said, his face immediately growing warm as the words came out of his mouth. He'd thought them, but he hadn't actually planned to say them so matter-of-factly. Carol laughed to herself.

"Maybe we need to go back to sickbay," she said, "and get the doctor to look at your eyes."

Daryl smiled simply because he couldn't help it. Looking at her, looking at him like she was, made it impossible to keep the expression off his face.

"There's nothin' wrong with my eyes, Carol," Daryl said. "They're brand new, remember? Doctor rejuvenated everything—even our sight."

Carol sighed, but it was clearly a put-on sigh. She ran her fingers around the neck of his shirt, and he shivered when her skin touched his. Her eyes watched what her fingers were doing as though she needed to focus intently on an action that was nothing more than the nervous entertainment of her hands.

"Maybe that's why it took you so long to—notice me," she teased.

Her eyes flicked back up to Daryl's and she didn't even try to hide her teasing smirk.

"Shut up," Daryl said. "You know I noticed your ass a long damn time ago."

"How long?" Carol asked, swallowing back her amusement.

"Like four hundred years ago if you wanna get technical about it," Daryl said, deciding to play along with her.

"It takes you an awful long time to make a move, Pookie," Carol said.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You can say that again. He leaned forward and kissed her. She kissed him back, and the feeling behind the kiss practically surged through him. He could feel it all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. He moaned his satisfaction with the kiss, and Carol smiled against his lips as the kiss broke. She licked her lips when Daryl looked at her, and he shivered in response.

"You have some very important work to do," she said. "What do you say—you take me to the bedroom, and we work on ensuring that our family can grow in the future?"

Daryl raised his eyebrows at her.

"You gonna help me with that?" He asked.

"Seems only right, doesn't it?" Carol said. She was already nodding her head at him, half her smile swallowed back in her best attempt to at least appear serious at the moment. Daryl smiled to himself and mirrored the nod like she clearly hoped he would. "Don't you want me to—give you a hand? Or, maybe, even a tongue?"

Daryl laughed low in his throat.

"Might be the only thing that makes this whole process bearable."

"I think we can manage more than bearable, Daryl," Carol assured him.

"I sure bet we can. Come on, woman."

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Normally, Daryl might argue that some kind of combination blow job and hand job wasn't romantic enough to make someone desperate to stick around. He would have probably called someone crazy if they'd told him that something like that would make him want to curl up and spend half the day cuddling with someone.

He was learning, though, that his normal, now, was a great deal different than what he'd ever expected it might be when he'd lived in an old trailer with his brother in Georgia.

The nature of what he and Carol were doing required him to practically run away from her the moment that she coaxed his body to find its release and they got the lid on the little container the doctor had provided. She wasn't going to take his fleeing from the room personally, though. Instead, she'd sent him off with a kiss as soon as he'd gotten dressed, and he'd stuffed the container that she'd been keeping warm—like a mother hen sitting on her eggs—into his pocket as soon as he was dressed.

Daryl had practically run to sickbay and passed the cup off to Kes with a little less urgency than passing a football for a winning touchdown. He'd gotten back to the room so fast that once, in a corridor where nobody was coming, he'd allowed himself to speed up to the point of proceeding at a quick jog. He was out of his clothes again, stripped down to his underwear, and lazily lounging in the bed with Carol before enough time had passed for his body to lose, entirely, the almost magnetic desire to be as close to her as possible.

Though she didn't really feel like making love, and though he wasn't going to pressure her into anything more than simply lingering beside him, she'd stripped down to absolutely nothing—allowing him full access to her body to touch, taste, and smell as he'd worked toward the orgasm that had filled their little container.

She was still naked as she lied next to him with her leg hooked over him. He ran his fingers gently over her knee as it rested against his stomach.

She was trailing her finger around his body, her head resting against him. Every now and again, she lifted her head to smile at him or to offer him a kiss. If he didn't see her, or turn his head in time, she kissed his jaw or the side of his face before nuzzling back into him.

"What'cha thinking about?" She asked, finally, after they'd spent a long, silent period simply loving on one another.

"You really wanna know?" Daryl asked.

She laughed quietly, the calm having taken away some of her giggly nature, but not having stripped her entirely of the feeling of happiness that practically radiated off of her.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

"I was thinkin' that—in sickbay…which a year ago, I wouldn't've even known what sickbay was—we got a little cannister. All labelled up with 'Dixon' on it. And in that cannister, we got us a whole big ass family, Carol. Just waitin' to happen."

The sound she made was muffled laughter, but it was absolutely a call back to that earlier giggly feeling. She squirmed against him, drawing herself in closer and tighter to his body—there was no more room, he felt, between them anywhere.

"A year ago—not only would we not have known what a sickbay was," Carol mused, "but we wouldn't have had anything labelled 'Dixon,' and we certainly wouldn't have been thinking about a family."

Daryl trailed his fingers over her skin.

"Speak for yourself," Daryl said. "I think—somewhere? I was maybe thinkin' about all that a long time ago."

Carol sat up and Daryl hated the break in what felt like their head to toe connection, but he was glad to see her face for a moment.

"Really?" She asked, furrowing her brow and propping herself on her elbow. The almost permanent smile played at her lips.

"Really."

"You're just saying that because you're thinking it now."

"I'm not. I mean—I am, but…I know I thought of it at least a little bit, Carol. Back at the farm. I thought about it, at least a little bit, every time I saw you—going after it with someone else." She frowned at him. "I'm not bringin' that up to throw at you. I'm just saying…I thought about it. You and me, and a Dixon family."

Carol smiled to herself. She leaned toward him and he caught the kiss she intended to give him.

"You still gonna marry me? Talk to Kathryn about how we have a wedding on a starship?" Daryl asked.

"Of course," Carol said. "I had to wait to make sure you weren't going to get scared off. Maybe—find yourself a little alien girlfriend or something to avoid our family." She laughed to herself and Daryl caught it. "When do you want to do it?"

"Soon as she can arrange something suits me," Daryl said. "We'll do whatever you want. However, you want. I don't care, one way or another, as long as we come out of it all the way married."

"We're going to start a family, Daryl," Carol mused after a moment. "We're going to be parents."

"We are," Daryl said. "And this beats New Mexico, don't it?"

"This wouldn't have happened if we'd gone to New Mexico," Carol said, shaking her head. "I wouldn't have gotten pregnant. And if I had? I don't even want to think about it, Daryl. Everything that could've gone wrong…"

"Shhh…" Daryl hissed quickly. "Nothing's goin' wrong, Carol."

"I know," she said. It was evident, on her face, that she did know. At least, if she didn't know, she was fairly calmed by her confidence at the moment. They were just talking about hypotheticals. Daryl could handle any discussion as long as she wasn't upset. "I just mean—it would've been very different. And…terrifying."

"That mean you ain't scared no more?"

"Not as much," she said, seeming to have just discovered that truth for herself. "And—certainly not in the way that I would've been in New Mexico. Even if I'd had a baby, Daryl, and even if…it had been OK? We'd've had to worry about Walkers."

"We don't gotta worry about Walkers now," Daryl said. He sighed. "Now we just gotta worry about…Kazons, and Klingons, and fuck knows what else is flyin' around out here."

Carol laughed to herself.

"But look at the family we've got here," Carol said. "Look what we did to those Kazons."

"Look what you did, mostly," Daryl mused.

"I wasn't alone," Carol said.

"I like when you ain't scared," Daryl said.

"I'm still scared," Carol said. "I am. Deep down and…of different things. Maybe I don't ever get to see that go away entirely, but…I'm not scared the same way that I was. And if the Kazons come back, Daryl, I won't be scared of them. Not now. They're not getting our alien."

Daryl brushed his finger across her cheek. He saw the spark in her eye. It was fear. It was that deep-down fear that she'd alluded to feeling. Sadly, Daryl knew that it would never go away. Not entirely. He raised his eyebrows at her and offered her a reassuring smile, hoping to draw her back into her happiness and farther away from the edge of dark and frightening memories and thoughts.

"They don't get our alien, Carol," Daryl assured her. "Or—none of our others, if this ain't the only one we mix up together."

Carol smiled to herself.

"Do you want more than one?"

"Ain't that what we did this for?"

"We did it as an insurance policy. In case we wanted more than one. But—do you want more than one? Do you know?"

"A whole damn ship full of Dixons," Daryl said. "That's what I want."

He grinned at her, waiting for her reaction. She playfully swatted him, and his heart pumped harder in his chest, pleased to see that he'd pulled her away from her darkness and back into the happy light of the day.

"You looked like you'd seen a ghost when the doctor said fifteen," Carol said. "Don't pretend now that you want a whole ship full of Dixons."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I tell you what," he said. "And I mean this. If you wanna have fifteen? I'ma let'cha do it. Hell—I'ma support it. Hold your hand and all when they're born. And—I'll love every one of 'em.'

"No," Carol said, drawing the word out, clearly amused. "No."

"I knew you ain't wanted fifteen, neither," Daryl said.

"How many do you want? No jokes."

"Two or three?"

"Is that a question or an answer?"

"Both," Daryl said. "At the end of the day, it's you that's gonna be doin' the real hard work of havin' 'em. I'm just getting the fun of takin' care of 'em and—playin' with 'em. Teachin' 'em things."

"And staying up all hours of the night," Carol said.

"Used to that," Daryl said. "At least it's stayin' up for them and not to keep an eye out for Walkers."

"And changing dirty diapers," Carol teased.

"You think anything a baby can do can be nastier'n some of the shit we've had to cover ourselves with? Or got covered with? A little baby shit don't scare me."

"You'll be a wonderful Daddy," Carol said.

Daryl couldn't help but smile to himself at the high praise.

"Hell if I won't try," he mused.

"You will be," Carol said. "To all—fifteen of our little Dixon aliens."

She snorted.

"All right," Daryl said, reaching around and playfully swatting her ass. She frowned at him, pretending that it hurt and rubbed at the spot where he'd popped her. On second thought, his hand stung, and he realized he might have underestimated his own strength. "You OK? I was just playin'. I think that was harder than I meant for it to be."

"It's OK. I'm fine," she assured him.

"You keep messin' around, joking like that? And we gonna end up with fifteen. You heard the doctor. They don't all gotta come outta that cannister and you're gonna catch us in somethin'. Some kinda—karma or something. And when that happens 'cause you joked around about it so much, you just remember, you ain't got nobody but yourself to blame."

"Mmmm…I don't want fifteen," Carol said, shaking her head. "But—I do want this, Daryl. All of this. You and me, and…this little alien. And—if one or two more is in the cards, that's fine. I'll want them, too. But—I do want this. So much."

"You got all this," Daryl assured her, pulling her close to him. "All of it that you want. Now come here—close your eyes and get a nap, while you're supposed to be resting and we still got permission to be nothin' but lazy."


	60. Chapter 60

**AN: Here we are, another chapter. **

**I'm really going to try to get this one up and running again! **

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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"You clean up well, Cowboy!" B'Elanna declared as she walked into the room. The doors slid shut behind her.

She was smiling more enthusiastically than usual, and it was contagious. Even if Daryl hadn't already been smiling to the point that he felt lightheaded, he would have smiled upon seeing her.

She was wearing what he knew, by now, was a dress uniform. When Chakotay had first shown up, offering whatever services he could as a best man, Daryl had questioned him about the unfamiliar outfit, and he'd told Daryl that it was a uniform they wore for special occasions.

The first double wedding aboard Voyager was, without a doubt, a special occasion.

"You don't look so bad yourself, Klingon," Daryl said with a laugh. "Don't go gettin' too damn smitten by me, though. I'm spoken for, you know. About to be a married man."

B'Elanna laughed to herself, absorbing the joke into her already remarkably good humor for the day.

"I'm here on behalf of the brides," B'Elanna said. "The Doctor is ready to officiate. The brides are ready to be married. We're just waiting on you two."

"You can tell them we're on our way," Chakotay said. "We'll meet everyone in the mess hall."

B'Elanna nodded her head and left to convey the message.

"Ain't it the brides that traditionally arrive last?" Daryl asked, laughing to himself.

"I think you'll find that neither of us have very traditional brides," Chakotay said, his own humor bleeding through into his words.

Chakotay straightened Daryl's tie and, for a moment, it registered to Daryl how odd it was. He wasn't accustomed to having a male friend that would do something like that. And it had been a long time since he'd seen Merle in such a situation and sober enough to do anything of the sort. The last he remembered, actually, was when they'd dressed for their mother's funeral in hand-me-down suits that one of the local churches donated to them after they lost everything in the fire.

Merle had straightened Daryl's tie, then. He'd told him something he normally wouldn't say—it was OK to cry. Men shouldn't cry over foolish things, in Merle's opinion, but it was fine to cry for respectable reasons.

Daryl shook his head, physically shaking the memory out of his mind and pushing the heaviness out of his chest. He was happy today. Merle, he was sure, would have been happy for him, too.

Today he was marrying Carol—officially.

"Everything OK?" Chakotay asked.

"It'll be even better once Carol and me are married," Daryl said, nodding his head. "I guess I'm just—anxious for it to be real and official."

Chakotay smiled at him.

"I understand the feeling. Are you sure you don't mind sharing your day? Kathryn and I really have no right to impose. We could wait…"

Daryl shook his head.

"As happy as Carol looked about the whole idea of a joint wedding? Only seems right. After everything, and all on New Earth."

Chakotay nodded his agreement.

"Ready?"

"Let's go," Daryl said, laughing to himself.

The mess hall was crowded. It was crowded to the point that, really, Daryl found it difficult to focus on anything except the feeling that a sea of bodies was closing in on them and that so many lungs were drawing the air out of the room. He'd never really liked being crowded, and too many years of fearing hordes of bodies in Walker form had left him admittedly shell-shocked when it came to overwhelming numbers. He had also never really liked being the center of attention and, during their joint wedding, he felt like all eyes were on him.

He might not have made it through, honestly, without Carol to keep him grounded.

"Look at me," she'd said softly, sensing when it was becoming too much. And he had. He'd looked at her. He'd looked at how pretty she was with her hair pinned back just-so, the majority of it cascading over her shoulders. The dress she'd chosen wasn't some traditional white wedding dress. It was a simple dress—a beautiful burgundy color—and she looked happy and light, smiling at him while she held his hands.

He held her eyes, repeating vows and watching her mouth move while she repeated them. He honestly heard none of them. He didn't truly hear any of the words that were exchanged by anyone that day. He heard the pounding of his heart in his ears. And he heard, on some kind of repeat in his brain, her soft "look at me" echoing over and over in his mind.

And none of it mattered, when he did look at her, because he knew that no matter what his mouth promised, his heart promised that tenfold.

The only words he truly heard himself say came after he kissed her, pressing his forehead to hers, he found the presence of self to be able to say "I love you." He'd heard her giggle—a precious, musical, tinkling sound of sincere happiness—just before she echoed the words back to him in a way that made his whole body tingle.

Nobody else, in that moment, really mattered at all.

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Chakotay swallowed his amusement as he sunk down into the couch.

He had married a starship captain, and there were certain things that simply came with the territory. He might as well start accepting them now—before he even took off his dress uniform.

Kathryn, with her uniform top half undone and her boots off because her feet were killing her, walked around the room reading from a PADD. She'd asked for the reports, but they'd been tardy because of everything else that had been going on. The repairs, after all, following the Kazon's attempts to overtake the ship were numerous and, in some places, demanding.

"We could really use a mining planet," she mused. "At the moment, we aren't really low on basic supplies, though, and I think it might be best to avoid this planet. If long-range scans are correct, we're picking up some questionable information about the planet and the species."

"Kathryn Janeway doesn't want to explore that?" Chakotay teased.

Kathryn glanced at him and pressed her fingers to her temple. The headache, no doubt, was real. She often got them. It seemed to come with the territory of being captain. Chakotay was honestly glad to have handed those particular reins over to her.

"After everything with the Kazon," Kathryn said.

"I understand," Chakotay said when her words dropped off. "I was teasing, mostly. Kathryn—we don't need to visit that planet right now. Something doesn't seem right about it, and I agree with the reports and your interpretation of them. It's better if we simply try to slip by the system without being noticed. We'll find other planets. We'll find new sources for trading."

"What we need to find is a place that also has something to offer for shore leave," Kathryn said with a sigh. "It was evident today that the crew is in need of a release, Chakotay. Holodeck time only helps for so long. Eventually people need fresh air and the feeling of the actual ground beneath their feet."

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"And the last time we beamed down to inspect a planet for possible shore leave, we picked up our little stowaway and thought we'd be spending the rest of our lives as—as pioneers creating some knew civilization."

"Believe me," Kathryn said. "I'm not likely to forget that soon."

She laughed to herself and brushed her hand across the front of her dress uniform—a clear signal that she was talking about the baby that hadn't yet begun to make any real visible changes to her appearance.

Chakotay stood up.

"Does that mean that you're regretting everything that happened there? Because—if it hadn't been for that, we wouldn't have gotten married today. Unless—you're already regretting that, too."

She half-frowned at him. She met him, PADD still in hand, and touched his chest. Her fingers smoothed the material of his uniform.

"Is that what you think?" She asked.

"Sometimes you make me dizzy, Kathryn, trying to keep up with what I think," Chakotay admitted.

"I regret that the crew lost that time in getting home," Kathryn said. "Because I know that so many of them are anxious to be home and I know that our trip is still so long…"

Chakotay sighed. The mantle of command was heavy, and even Kathryn sometimes had to feel the pressure of it on her shoulders—especially in this situation where, honestly, she never knew when or if she'd ever be able to fully take it off.

"We may still find another way. We may find some wormhole. Some method of speeding up the trip. I'm not ready to lose hope. And it may be selfish, but if we had to lose that time for us to find this? To finally find each other? I'm not unhappy with the way that things turned out. I consider it more than a fair trade," Chakotay said, touching her shoulders and working at the eternally tight muscles he found there.

Kathryn responded by leaning affectionately against him, and Chakotay took the PADD from her hand and tossed it at the nearby table before wrapping his arms tightly around her and, stepping almost in place, dancing her around in a small swaying motion.

She laughed, quietly, in his arms.

"They're such a good crew," Kathryn said. "They're so dedicated. I just—don't want them to miss out on their lives. And now—I feel responsible for Carol and Daryl. It's at least partially our fault that they're hundreds of years away from their original lives."

"And they wouldn't go back if they had the choice," Chakotay said. "At least—I don't think they would. And the crew? They trust you to get them home. They know you'll get them there. But in the meantime? They know you'll give them the best opportunity you can to enjoy the life that they have. Just because we're onboard Voyager and lost in the Delta Quadrant, it doesn't mean that everything has to come to a halt. What we're doing? With the wedding and the baby? It's good for them. It's showing them that we meant what we said. They can have a life. We support that. We support them."

Kathryn sighed and looked at him.

"We should skip this system," Kathyrn said. "Hold Warp Seven. Try to slip by unnoticed and avoid all conflict. We'll look for the next M-Class we can find and get the crew a day or two of shore leave while we—while we learn the natives and negotiate a trade. If it's not a mining planet…"

"Then we look for a mining planet next," Chakotay said. "Now…tell Tuvok your plans, Captain, because Kathryn has other obligations."

Kathryn smiled at him.

"Go get comfortable," she said. "I'll meet you in the bedroom."

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"You gotta pick one," Daryl said.

"You pick," Carol said.

"We got three hours," Daryl said, his voice cracking slightly with frustration. "I don't wanna spend the whole thing standin' here arguin' over who's gonna pick. I want you to pick."

"I want you to be happy," Carol insisted.

"I'ma be happy if you pick!" Daryl said, his voice rising slightly. "I want you to go where you want. This is the only way I'm ever gonna be able to take you wherever you wanna go on our honeymoon."

Carol smiled. She couldn't help it. He'd gone red in the face—all the way to the tips of his ears.

Ignoring the tablet in her hand, complete with a list that B'Elanna had made them of all available holodeck programs they could visit, Carol reached up and delicately stroked her fingertips against the hair at Daryl's temple. Her fingertip bumped over the scar he'd received the day that Andrea's bullet had grazed his head—when he'd been looking for Sophia. Carol kissed her fingertips and pressed her fingers back there.

Daryl's demeanor changed. It softened. His muscles visibly relaxed. He let go of some of the tension that had clearly been building up while he waited for her to choose their honeymoon destination.

"Daryl—I want you to listen to me, OK?" Carol said. He nodded, chewing his lip. It was a clear sign to Carol that the anxiety he was building up over the whole silly thing had not quite dissipated. Her stomach tightened. They were quite the pair because, even though she felt he had no reason to be anxious, she could understand the feeling. It was ingrained in her, too. If she made the wrong decision, she would ruin this for him—she would ruin it for them both.

It wasn't true. It was just a shadow from her past. But he had shadows, too.

"I understand. Like you? I don't want to choose. And I don't want—you to be unhappy. But—I need to say this. I've been everywhere from Georgia to Virginia to…wherever the hell we were when the spaceship sucked us up." She laughed to herself. "I've been to outer space with you. To strange planets. And now we're home on a big spaceship. And it's proven one thing that I know to be true beyond anything else in this whole universe."

"Hmmmm?" Daryl hummed, maybe not ready to put voice to his question, but wanting her to continue.

Carol brushed her fingers against his cheek. He closed his eyes, savoring the touch. It made her heart beat faster.

"I would be happy anywhere—literally anywhere—as long as I'm with you."

Daryl smiled to himself and nodded.

"Me too," he said, his voice coming out somewhat gravelly as he forced out the words.

"Good," Carol said with a smile. "So—I've rounded it down. Now, you choose. What's it going to be? The beaches of Risa, which they call the pleasure planet, or…the mountains of…Phedoranium VI, the untamed planet?"

Daryl touched her face and then kissed her. She hummed her appreciation at the kiss. He smiled when it broke.

"If we don't waste no more time," he said. "I bet we can squeeze in nearly an hour and a half at both."

"That's the best honeymoon plan I've heard all day," Carol assured him, stepping forward to touch the button that would activate the computer system to take her request.


End file.
